Suckers
by Digital Tempest
Summary: Challenge fic. Sequel to VMN. AU. Storm deals with life and love in the mansion. Oh and vampires, and murderous zombies, and a Cajun boy who thinks he wants to raise the dead instead of being an XMan, and...
1. Chapter One

**Title: **Suckers   
**Author:** Tempest   
**Rating:** PG-13 (Possible R for later chapters)   
**Warnings:** Violence, Language, Adult Situations

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any characters recognizable from "X-Men" or any of its affiliated comics, movies, etc, and I guess that should go without saying that I don't own the comics, movies, so forth and so on either. They are owned by Marvel™ et al. I also don't own the "Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter" series. It is owned by Ms. Laurell K. Hamilton. I also do not own the characters from other fandoms that will be used in this story such as, but not limited to, Street Fighter (owned by Capcom™) and Dead or Alive (owned by Team Ninja/Tecmo™). Basically, if you recognize the characters from somewhere else, then that means I don't own it. If you don't recognize it, hell, I still might not own it. I make no money off these works; this is solely for entertainment purposes. No copyright infringement intended.

**Foreword (This is the stuff you need to read)**: This a continuation of a challenge issued by my friend, Sparkle. The challenge was to rewrite a series of books using characters from a different genre than what the series was originally written in. The series I chose to rewrite was the "Anita Blake, Vampire Hunter" series in the X-Men fandom. You don't have to be familiar with Anita Blake to understand this story, but I do recommend them for your own enjoyment. Some people chose Lord of the Rings, some people chose Harry Potter. I chose the series that reads like some kind of weird soap opera. Of course, this is very AU, and this features a more cynical Storm. Don't like. Don't read. Anyway, have fun!

**Dedications:** To William (my love, _te__ amo_), Stephanie, Nick, Sparkle, Daniel, Anna, Jen, Delilah (Delia-baby!), Felina, and everyone else who was been supportive of my writing. I love you guys! Thanks to everyone who read the first story and I promise as long as you keep reading it, I'll keep writing it. You guys are the dopest trip. p

- - -

**1**.

It was a dark and stormy night. Okay, not really. It was dark, but it wasn't stormy. It could be though if my mood worsened considerably, but I didn't see any rain in tonight's forecast. Maybe a little thunder and lightning, but no rain. I stood at the doorway of the warehouse, taking deep breaths. I tried to let anything that happened earlier slip away from my mind. All my attention had to be focused on my task. Once I stepped foot inside, the fight for my life would begin.

I fingered the silver chain around my neck, finding the crucifix at the end. Forge had given it to me, and I'd taken a habit to wearing it while I was doing anything that dealt with the preternatural. Forge said that he didn't believe Christian items were God-powered, but powered by our own will. I don't know if _I_ believed that, but it was comforting to have on me. Besides, it was silver, so even if I didn't get the benefits of a blessed crucifix, I could still burn the hell out of a vampire.

I pulled the golden Eagles from their holster, kissing the side of each of them for luck. If Vega knew that, he'd probably gloat like an idiot. I had no intentions of him ever knowing about it. It was for luck and nothing else, but he would probably read more into the situation. He liked to entertain the thought that I liked him.

Who could really like Vega? Sure, he was attractive, charming, darkly attractive, rich, absolutely attractive, and powerful. Did I mention he was somewhat attractive? Looks weren't everything, though. His attitude was just infuriating. He thought he was so much better than everyone else was, that everything should go his way. He'd always been like that, even before he became the master of the city. Arrogant bastard. Just because I thought he was attractive didn't mean I could tolerate him for more than a few minutes at a time. I'd been avoiding him lately. It was working well.

I pushed Vega away from my mind, too. I didn't need to lose this fight because I was thinking about him. I stepped back from the door, allowing myself a little legroom. I kicked it hard, putting all my strength behind the kick, and the door opened. Logan taught me that. I could kick doors in, now. I didn't have to blow them apart with a ferocious wind unless the was very, very sturdy or I was trying to be impressive, but I thought it was more impressive that I could kick in a door. I am woman. Hear me roar.

I walked slowly through the door, holding both guns out in front of me. The warehouse was dimly lit, lights flickering on and off. There were crates and barrels everywhere. In one corner, a forklift sat idly. I thought I heard movement on my left, and I quickly turned both guns in that direction. I didn't see anything. I continued to walk forward, pointing one gun to the left and one to the right. I knew the bastards were in here. I could feel them. I just couldn't see them, yet.

"Come out. Come out wherever you are," I muttered to myself.

And come out they did. There was two of them. Both male. They were twins and brawny like wrestlers. They felt about two-hundred-years old. Oh, this was going to be so much fun. That was sarcasm. I saw one of them moving toward me quickly. I wasn't supposed to see that at all, but thanks to Vega, I was doing a lot of things I shouldn't have been able to. I aimed my gun, but before he could attack, Logan appeared out of nowhere. I mean that literally. One minute I was getting ready to fire at the vampire and the next Logan was charging the guy.

I wasn't surprised by his sudden appearance, though. I was getting used to having Logan around when I did this kind of thing. At first, I was reluctant to let him help me. I didn't want to endanger my friends' lives, but it was nice to have someone watching my back. Logan didn't usually carry weapons unless I forced them on him. In his own words, his body was the weapon. I couldn't argue with that, but it still made me feel better when he would at least carry a knife or something. I had the elements at my fingertips, but I still carried three guns at all times.

That was probably my own paranoia talking. I felt you could never have enough weapons on you when dealing with any supernatural bad guys.

The other vampire moved toward me as quickly as his brother had while I was momentarily distracted. I turned in just enough time to dodge his grasp, cracking him across the face with my gun. Logan also taught me something else new. If I landed a series of attacks on a vampire, I had a better chance of causing damage than with one strike. If I didn't give them a chance to attack, I would be okay. Vampires were quick, but they could feel pain for a moment. They even actually took damage if you kept at hitting them with everything you had. This tended to work on younger vampires though. Older vampires mind tricks were still effective, even with me being… I don't even want to talk about it.

I didn't actually plan to fistfight many vampires. I'd rather they die and die quickly. One way of making sure that happened was to shoot silver bullets at them like crazy. However, Logan could really brawl with a vampire. I didn't quite understand how he was able to go blow-for-blow with a vampire of any age. He fought a thousand-year-old monster once, and he almost came out on top. Probably had something to do with his metal skeleton and his healing factor. I punched a vampire and I was rewarded with swollen knuckles for my effort. He punched a vampire and they went down. No fair. Some people just had all the luck.

The vampire held his jaw momentarily, and I forced him back with a stiff front to the stomach, aiming my gun for his heart. I squeezed the trigger, and the vampire dropped to the ground. One down. One to go. Two hundred was fairly young, so I was sure he wouldn't need another bullet to the heart. I holstered my guns and a pulled a vial of silver from my jacket. I touched the top of it, and a needle popped from the bottom half. I emptied the contents into the vain of the vampire. Better safe than sorry.

I pulled a knife out of my waistband with all intentions of throwing it at the vampire Logan was fighting. I had a clear chance to catch him in the neck, but I sensed movement behind me. I spun on my heel sharply, pulling my hand back quickly to throw the knife. I froze when I saw a huge, blonde man lumbering toward me. I knew him well. He still haunted my nightmares after the incident with Rogue.

"Sabretooth." I breathed. I couldn't see his face well, but I could imagine the sinister smirk covering his face as he neared me. After everything I've been through, how was it even possible that I was still scared of Sabretooth?

Most people would say that I showed Sabretooth who was boss, but most people didn't have to face Sabretooth. Yeah, I did what I had to do, but I would never deny that he was one of the most terrifying mutants I'd ever met. Even Magneto didn't scare me quite as much as Sabretooth. He was one of those people who made you think twice about going out in public. Sometimes, when I was out, I would get this odd sensation as if I'm being watched. At those times, I'd swear it was Sabretooth. I don't know why I would think that. It was just the vibe I got sometime.

Now, he was stalking toward me. I shook myself out of my stupor and threw the knife. He batted it away as if it were a fly. I shouldn't have hesitated when I turned. His pace quickened, and I started jogging backwards away from him. "Computer, end program." I said quickly.

"Program terminated," the clipped mechanical voice said, as the warehouse melted into the gray walls of the Danger Room. I had the program set to enter to introduce a random variable into the simulation, just to keep me on my toes. Apparently, the computer randomly chose Sabretooth. Bad computer.

Logan was still thrashing at the air before he realized I had ended the program. "Whatcha do that for?" he asked with a disappointed tone. I couldn't help but laugh at the perplexed look that crossed his face. "Things were just gettin' good."

"Sorry, I'm tired, Logan." I said. That wasn't the first simulation we ran through. I set up many different simulations with a supernatural theme for myself. I had to keep on top my game as an X-Woman and a vampire hunter. Logan and I had been working in the Danger room for the better part of an hour. "Besides, I have to get ready for my meeting."

That was the truth. I did have a meeting, but I'm sure another ten minutes wouldn't have hurt. However, I just didn't want to face Sabretooth again. Not right now. Maybe tomorrow I would fry him to a crisp with a lightning bolt and laugh about it, but not today. Then again, tomorrow Mystique might be my random variable. I could fry her and laugh about it, instead.

I left the Danger Room with a sulking Logan in tow. You'd think he loved my job more than I do. Well, when I think about it, what other job lets you fight with master vampires, throw firebombs at ghouls, and meet men who use voodoo magic to stay alive? Not many that I know of. Not saying being an X-Man wasn't exciting. You don't get the chance to kill many mutant bad guys, though. We usually gave them a chance to try to destroy the world repeatedly before they died from some freak accident. You had to kill vampires, though, because there was no prison strong enough to hold them.

They had rights now, too. They were recognized as citizens. The United States was the only country that recognized them. Three years ago, I could've staked a vampire with no problems. If I stake a vampire now, I would be down at the precinct listening to homicide charges being read to me. I was a licensed vampire hunter now. A vampire was considered a threat by the court and they sent me out to hunt him down and kill him.

They had to follow rules, too, specifically the one about no randomly attacking people for their blood. Now, they wanted the right to vote. They paid taxes like good law-abiding Americans. They wanted a say so in things, too. Only in America would any of this be possible. Every year since vampires became citizen, more and more of them poured into this country from around the world.

Logan and I diverged at the kitchen entrance. He went up the stairs, and I went into the kitchen. Jean was sitting at the island table, flipping through bridal magazines. She looked up and smiled at me. "Don't forget. Tomorrow, we go to the bridal shop!" she said.

I opened the refrigerator and got a bottled water. I opened the water and took a sip. I walked over to Jean. "I won't." I said, looking over her shoulder at some of the pictures in the magazine.

"Oh, a deliveryman dropped something off for you, too. I put it on your bed," she said with a hint of laughter. I cringed. This was just getting ridiculous. I sent Vega a polite note thanking him for all the stuff he sent me, but I wanted him to stop. I guess it didn't matter much what I wanted out of this non-relationship. At least he stayed out of my dreams. For that much I was thankful.

"We'll open it later. What do you think it is?" I asked. It was a running game with us. Who could figure out what Vega sent me this time? We usually couldn't figure it out

"The box wasn't large, but it wasn't small, either. It was somewhat light, too. When I shook it, I heard the soft rustling of fabric."

I nearly spit out my water. "The soft rustling of fabric? You have got to be kidding." I said, trying to hold back my laughter. Since when did fabric made a discernible noise?

Jean clicked her tongue at me. "I'm a bride. I've looked at enough fabric to know what it sounds like, and from the sound of whatever is in that box, it's silk. It's probably negligee since he wants to get you into bed." Jean joked. I couldn't hold back my laugh this time.

"You're so unoriginal, Jean. You said that last time."

"I know, but I'm positive this time. If it's not, it's something pretty damn close."

"What did you do? Open it?"

"I was tempted, but it wouldn't have been fair. Besides, I wouldn't have been able to rewrap it. You would have known that I opened it the minute you looked at the rewrapped box." She had a point. Jean was horrible at wrapping gifts, just awful. It didn't matter how many times we showed her ways to wrap a present, it always ended up looking like something a three-year-old did. Jean was talented in many areas, but gift-wrapping was not one of them.

Jean pointed out a short, bright red wedding dress that looked fit for a bordello wedding. She made a joke about getting married in that dress. I told her Scott would never forgive her for wearing that dress or me for not stopping her from wearing it. Then she joked about making the bridesmaid wear a dress patterned after it instead. She said she would make us all wear red, strap-up stilettos and laugh when we all fell down. I believed her, too. Jean had a warped sense of humor sometimes. You just had to love her.

After I left the kitchen, I climbed the stairs to my attic room. I wanted a nice, hot shower before I went to my meeting. I probably just jinxed myself because when I wanted things to go well they never did. Marie was waiting for me when I got in my room. I glanced at the bed, looking at the box wrapped in its vermillion paper. I turned my attention back to Rogue. "Ms. Munroe, ya gotta help me," she drawled, sounding somewhat frantic.

"What's wrong, child?" I asked her.

I pulled my chair away from my desk and offered it to her. She fell into the seat with a swoon that would have made Scarlett O'Hara proud. I could almost see Marie touching the back of her hand to her forehead and declaring she'd never go hungry again. Marie was a good child, and I liked her a lot. She just had a penchant of being melodramatic, especially now when she had Bobby and Remy basically trying to kill each other over her. If I had to break up one more fight between the two, someone was going to pay.

It didn't matter that she was "with" Remy. They still fought over her. Watching them fight over Rogue reminded me of the early power struggles between Logan and Scott over Jean. I realize now that men never grow up; they just become really big boys. Remy and Marie's "relationship" was very interesting to observe. Obviously, they were compatible. They were a very cute couple, but they were always arguing over something. Remy's flirting. Marie's aloofness. It was always something with those two. One minute they would be shouting at each other in the foyer and the next they were holding hands in the garden. I hoped they grew out of that.

"It's Remy." Rogue said. Well, I knew that. It was always something with Remy, and she always came to me because she thought I could talk some sense into Remy. Remy was like my shadow. I knew he had a great deal of respect for me, but he was still rash and young, which meant he only took about half of my advice. Maybe sixty percent of it just because he respected me.

"Okay…" I said trailing, encouraging her to keep going.

"Remy said when we graduate he don't wanna be an X-Man."

"That isn't unusual, Marie. He may decide he wants to teach here after the proper post-High school training, or he may decide to do other things with his life. He may not know what he wants to do, yet. Nobody ever said he had to become an X-Man." I said, trying to sound encouraging. I was a little disappointed myself. I'd hope he would join the team, too, but it was his life.

"That ain't it, Ms. Munroe. He knows exactly what he wants to do."

I was afraid she was going to say he wanted to become a professional thief. I wouldn't have been surprised if Remy told her that, but I would definitely have a talk with him if he did. "What does he want to do?"

"He said he wants to do what you do at your other job. He wants to raise zombies for a living. He said it'd be better than thieving and less stressful than fighting mutant enemies." She said in a distressed tone.

"Marie, don't worry." I laughed. He had told me something similar, but I shrugged it off. He was just fascinated by it; it wasn't something he really wanted to do. I probably shouldn't have allowed him to come with me on so many animations. "Not everyone can be a necromancer. You have to be born with the power to raise the dead. I inherited it from my family. Remy is just thinking illogical. He can't possibly raise the dead."

I didn't mention there were other less desirable, more dangerous, infinitely evil ways of gaining the power, but I'm sure Remy had never done any of those things. He was essentially a good kid himself, so I doubted he would do anything like that anyway. Marie crossed her arms, taking on the look of a scorned heroine. I do love Marie's dramatic expressions. I wonder if I was that dramatic at seventeen.

"Well, let me tell you what Remy did," she said, her voice lowering to a somber, foreboding tone. A "woe-is-I" sigh escaped from her lips. The girl was good. She should think about being an actress.

I crossed my arms, mimicking her. "Yes, please, tell me what Remy did."

"You remember the Professor's cat?" she asked.

Yeah, I remembered Mrs. Tabby. Though, nobody ever knew what happened to Mr. Tabby. She was a pretty, black-and-white spotted tabby cat. The Professor owned her for years. She was here before I even arrived as a student. She'd recently died from old age. For some of the children, that was their first experience with death. They held an elaborate funeral for her and buried her under a tree on the mansion grounds.

"Yes, I remember her."

"Well, guess who's back? That's what Remy did."

I started laughing, not believing what she was trying to imply. "That was a good one, Marie."

"I ain't jokin'." Marie explained what happened. They walked past the tree last night, and Remy asked about the little marker marking Mrs. Tabby's grave. He said he could raise the cat, and Marie said she laughed at him until he really raised the cat. My arms fell to my side, as I let that information sink in. No, that boy hadn't raised Mrs. Tabby. Marie had to be mistaken. Right?

"He put her back, though. Right?" I asked. "Right, Marie?" She looked down at her shoe, then back up at me. She had a sheepish look on her face. Marie and I stared at each other for a moment before I bolted from the room in search of Remy.

I saw Remy once today, and that was during my class period. He said he didn't feel to well. He didn't look too well either, so I excused him. No wonder he didn't feel so well. I hadn't felt him raising Mrs. Tabby last night. From the time Marie gave me, I wasn't even at home. I was out with Jean doing a little shopping. I thought it was somewhat odd that I hadn't seen Remy the night before either. He was probably too guilty to face me or anybody else. He raised the Professor's cat from the dead. Did I blame him for hiding out?

I found him hiding in the empty library. His eyes widened when he saw me. He stood up from the chair quickly and walked toward me. "_Bonjour_, Stormy," he said. He had a bad habit of calling me Stormy no matter how many times I threatened to cause a lightning storm in his stomach. He walked past me, and I turned around and grabbed the back of his shirt.

"I think we have something we need to discuss, Remy."

"I ain't do not'ing," he protested as I pulled him back toward the table and chairs.

"So, you didn't raise Mrs. Tabby?" I said. I sat in a chair beside him. He looked up at the ceiling, glancing at my face, before returning his eyes to the ceiling. "Well?"

"I ain't mean to." He said, looking at me. He looked really sorry, and I believed him. "I was jest jokin' 'round, tryin' t'show off. Remy don' know why. I ain't t'ink I'd really do it."

"Why didn't you put her back?"

"She ran off." I had no reason to doubt that.

I was seventeen the first time I raised something. It was during a biology class when we were supposed to be dissecting a frog. Jean was my partner. Neither one of us wanted to pin the frog to the mat. Neither one of wanted to touch it at all. I was disgusted by it, but I didn't agree with dissection, either. I remember wishing that it would just jump up and hop away. Then, the next thing I knew, it was jumping up and hopping away. You can imagine I was horrified when the Professor explained to me what I'd done.

"Why didn't you come tell me, child. I would have put her back."

"I was scared you be mad wit' me."

"I am a little upset with you, but you didn't know any better. We'll talk about this later." I said. I should have known it was likely he could do it. He mentioned something about being the first LeBeau to leave New Orleans since the founding of the city. If anyone was a likely candidate to be a necromancer, it was him. He probably had some great, great, great grandparent who practiced voodoo at one time. "We have to find her and put her back."

At this rate, I was going to be late for my meeting, but I had to put Mrs. Tabby back in her place before anyone else saw her. Remy and I went outside searching for her. If we didn't find her, I could only hope that she left the grounds. I knew that was an awful thing to say, but the thought of being stalked by zombie cat made me think of Pet Cemetery. I heard someone in the garden scream. Looks like somebody found Mrs. Tabby.

- - -

**_Author's Notes:_** I know I promised this out by November 1st. Sorry, I got a little behind because my NaNoWriMo story is spinning out of control—in a good way—this year. I'm less than 15,000 words away from the 50k goal, and the month isn't even over yet. I opted to write a fanfiction for my NaNo-story this year because of an evil plot ninja that wouldn't leave me alone to work on any of my other ideas. Since I'm progressing well in that, I decided to take a break to work on this. There are probably mistakes, and I apologize for that. I will reread this again later to see what mistakes I missed. Anyhow, enjoy! Updates coming soon.


	2. Chapter Two

**2.**

Logan was still laughing. He thought it was funny that I had to chase a dead cat around with Remy. The cat hadn't been hard for me to control once we cornered her, but so many of the children saw her before we found her. I asked the Professor and Jean to erase the event from their mind. When I left the mansion, poor Nina was still crying. And now Logan was laughing at Remy and me. I'm glad someone was entertained.

"How did he raise it anyway? You said he ain't use blood. Don't you need blood to raise the dead?" Logan asked once he was able to form a sentence without laughing.

"The blood makes the magic stronger, especially if a corpse is very old. The older the corpse, the bigger the sacrifice must be to raise it. The blood also provides a sort of link between the animator and the zombie. When a necromancer's powers first start manifesting, sort of like our mutant powers, they are not very controllable.

"Without blood or even commanding a corpse to rise, young necromancers can raise the corpses of small animals because it usually doesn't take a lot of magic to do so – especially if the corpse is fairly young like Mrs. Tabby. One of my coworkers, Brad, told me a story about how roadkill used to follow his parents' car when his powers first really manifested. That's not unusual either." I explained.

"His parents must've been thrilled. Is that what we're gonna have to look forward to with Gumbo?"

Scenes from Pet Cemetery played through my mind again. "No, I'll work with him to control it. I don't think we'll have to worry about roadkill following us around. He was consciously aware of raising the cat. He didn't believe he could do it, but he was aware of what he was attempting to do. It wasn't a random act as it is for many people who find out about their necromancy."

Raising the dead, the ability to communicate with the dead, it was a curse to some and a blessing to others. Some people saw it as an abomination. Some saw it as a miracle of whatever god they believed in. Not every person who finds out they're a necromancer chooses to raise the dead. Necromancy takes a wide range of forms. Some necromancers' power take on a more psychic-type form where they prefer rituals—séances being the most common—over actually corpse raising.

Some necromancers become skilled in "death magic". This type of magic had to be nurtured over the years. This was perhaps one of the hardest forms of necromancy to master, and the one with the most ability to corrupt the wielder. Because of the fact that the magic deals with death and the dead, it's considered a dark art.

The power a necromancer could obtain from death magic could turn even the most benign of necromancers into a power hungry maniac. We're talking about people who have the ability to make a corpse retain its soul once they were strong enough to master the magic, and that's only the tip of the iceberg. I guess if I had the ability to make dead people keep their souls, I'd get a big head, too.

These were the most commonly known type of necromancer magic, but there were many different areas that necromancers could focus on. Some managed to master many different forms. We all had the ability to do it, but many of us just wanted to focus on one thing at a time. I guess it was just a lot easier that way.

Being a necromancer was frightening, but at the same time, it was exhilarating. The power that charged through your body was unparalleled. My mutant powers were the only thing I could equate the feeling to. Sometimes it made me feel as if I had too much power. Sometimes I felt like I didn't have enough, as if I could always have more. That last feeling wasn't particularly _good_, I suppose. Too much power—mutant or necromancer—could be a bad thing.

Some necromancers work hard to deny that part of them because of loved ones and because of their own fear. It could be suppressed, but never completely quelled. Just like mutants can't deny their powers, neither can a necromancer. I've heard of binding spells binding their powers, but that's like binding a part of yourself. Necromancy is scary, but you can't deny something that makes you whole.

"He's damn lucky you can help with that." He was quiet for a second before he started chuckling. "Now, tell me the part where One-eye started screamin' like a li'l girl again."

I rolled my eyes. Scott nearly had a heart attack when he saw Mrs. Tabby. I asked the Professor to wipe his mind of the event, too. When he saw her, he let out a scream that was about eight octaves higher than his speaking voice. I don't think I ever heard Scott scream like that, but I think because of his parents' death he had issues with death and dying. He'd seen people die, and he tried to be strong in the face of death. He was the leader and he felt it was his duty to stay strong no matter what.

I had the misfortune of witnessing my parents' death at a young age, also. I ended up buried under rubble with my mother's corpse gripping me tightly. However, that event only caused me to have a severe case of claustrophobia. Their deaths left me alone, but I was able to accept their death with time. Scott had not been able to overcome his parents' death. Just as I didn't know if I'd ever conquer my claustrophobia, I didn't know if Scott would ever be able to accept his parents' death.

Scott didn't like to talk about what I did. Jean was naturally curious about it. She wanted all the gory details right down to the color of the lipstick the corpse was wearing when she was buried. Sometimes we'd even share a psi-link, so she could see what I saw when I was raising the corpse. Scott didn't like to talk about it, and I understand that. People were either curious about it or they were repulsed by it. Scott didn't seem particularly repulsed by it. It was more like he was afraid of what I did.

When Jean and I would talk about one of my nights raising the dead, Scott would listen at first, his curiosity betraying him, but eventually, he would get this distant look in his eyes and wander off. Halloween was around the corner, too. I could only expect that look to get worst, especially since I promised Jean I would take her on at least one animation with me this Halloween season.

"I don't think you should laugh at Scott." I said sternly.

"Why the hell not? It's funny." Logan said. Logan didn't know much about Scott's past. He knew that his parents died tragically, but he hadn't been around Scott enough to know how he dealt with—or rather _didn't_ deal with—death. The thought of Scott screaming did paint a funny picture, but when I thought about the deeper meaning to his reaction, it wasn't so funny anymore.

"I just… I don't think Scott's really comfortable with the idea of death. I think he tolerates it because he's the leader, and death is inevitable. I don't think he really accepts it, though, if that makes any sense."

"And you think this has somethin' to do with his folks dyin'."

"Yeah, I do." I said.

"Fine," he answered. He almost sounded a little concerned. Logan could be bad tempered, but he wasn't the monster that some people thought he was. Logan really did have a heart of gold, even if he tried to hide it behind a gruff exterior. "I'll let it go, but if I ever hear Scott screamin' like you described, I can't promise you I won't laugh at him."

"Deal." We were quiet for the rest of the ride until we got to Webber Torque's mansion.

Webber Torque's sprawling estate almost put the mansion to shame, but it was creepy standing against the night sky. It looked like some type of haunted mansion. I kept expecting to see lightning strike eerily in the background. It just had an aura of dread surrounding it. I patted the side of my hips making sure my guns were handy. They were just a precaution. If he made me shoot him, I would. If I couldn't shoot him, I'd rip this place apart with a wind gale strong enough to be felt back in my home country.

Torque was an eccentric – to put it nicely. He insisted most people call him Arcade. However, I didn't like him, so I called him Mr. Torque to irk him. He had all the makings of a megalomaniac in training. He used his money and power to do the most ridiculous things. And it wasn't enough he had money and power; he also had an IQ that would put most people to shame. He did more harm than good most of the time. He seemed to get his kicks by making people participate in 'games' that put them up against unbeatable odds.

Edmond, my boss at Animators Inc., set up this meeting with Arcade. It seems Arcade was interested in having a corpse raised and he wanted me to do it. I tried to get Edmond to talk to Arcade about letting one of the others speak with him, but he said Arcade insisted. Everyone was always insisting I help him or her. There were other animators just as talented as I was. So, why didn't people hound them some of the time? Things would only get worse with Halloween nearing, too. I don't know how I let Edmond talk me into this stuff. Last time I listened to him, I ended up being jumped by a psychopath and his ghoul gang.

"So this is it." Logan stated, looking up at the mansion. He had that look as if he was about to say something I wasn't going to like. Logan was always verbalizing the things I didn't want to hear. I guess it was better if one of us verbalized those sinister thoughts, though. I wouldn't do it, and Logan had no problems saying whatever was on his mind. So, it worked perfectly. He kept his thoughts to himself, though.

We walked side by side to the door, and I rang the doorbell. The guy who answered the door was huge. I actually took a step back because Logan grabbed my arm, as if I were about to run back to the car. Honestly, the thought hadn't crossed my mind. I guess I was just a little taken aback by how big the guy was. It was like looking at a miniature Blob, and he wasn't that much more miniature than Blob was.

Short black hair accented the chubbiness of his face. Beady, black eyes stared at me. He was about as tall as Logan, and an expensive suit strained to contain his physique. His bulk filled the door and then some. He didn't appear particularly threatening, but he wasn't exactly amicable either. I had no reason to believe that this man posed a threat to me – at this moment. He looked from me to Logan expectantly.

I put on my best professional smile. "Hello, I'm Ororo Munroe, and this is my associate Logan. Mr. Torque is expecting me." I said politely. I pulled out some ID, and he looked at it momentarily before turning his attention away from me. The man eyed Logan, and Logan eyed him back. They were sizing each other up. They had an eager look that said 'Let's get it on!' I, on the other hand, was hoping it wouldn't come down to fighting.

The man stepped aside and allowed us to enter. Arcade's home was as eccentric as he was. There were expensive trinkets from many different cultures. I didn't know if Arcade was just trying to flaunt his wealth by buying all those expensive things or if he had actually experienced those cultures. Either way, the way he had things jumbled together was rather tawdry.

"An' they say rich people can't be tacky." Logan muttered in my direction, as if he were reading my mind. I suppressed a laugh as we followed the man down a long hallway. He directed us into a huge room that was cluttered with books. Arcade sat at a desk, a large grin already covering his seedy face. Another man sat in a chair beside the desk. I can't believe I agreed to this. Bad vibes pulsed through me.

Arcade was hardly ever seen without his signature madman grin. Arcade, in a word, had a wholesome look about him that he tried to use to his advantage sometimes. He had curly orangish-red hair and freckles dotted his face. He had large eyes and rosy cheeks. He was bit on the skinny side, but what he lacked in size was made up in charisma. He could've been that stereotypical down home good boys or a televangelist. I hadn't figured out which one would have suited him better. Probably the televangelist.

"Welcome!" Arcade said standing from his desk. "Thanks for coming out on such short notice." There wasn't a sincere note in his speech. He approached us, holding out his hand. I shook it hand reluctantly, and Logan politely refused. I guess he didn't like Arcade either. Arcade didn't seem to bothered by Logan's dismissal.

He waved his hand toward the man sitting in the chair. "That's Zack," he said. Zack looked to be well over six-feet tall. His skin was the color of well-polished teakwood, and his green hair only offset the color. He hid his eyes behind dark shades. Large teeth gleamed at me from his smile. Zack had the aura of a predator, but I knew he wasn't a vampire or a were. He would've made a good vampire or were, though.

I gave Zack a small wave, as Arcade turned to look at the large Blob-like man who led us into the room. "And that's Puddin'." Arcade said. I nearly choked on my tongue. That was some kind of joke, wasn't it? That couldn't be his real name. Even if it wasn't his real name, who in his right mind would let other adults call him Puddin'? It was like calling a grizzly bear Pooh Bear. That's just not intimidating. Puddin' was leaning against the wall not looking particularly interested in anything or anyone.

"Puddin'?" Logan said with disbelief in his voice, looking at the large man.

"Yeah, you wanna make somethin' of it?" Pudding asked, malice edging his tone.

Logan has never been the one to back down to a challenge, and Puddin' was definitely making a challenge. "Maybe I do." Logan growled at him. I put a hand on Logan's arm when his fists stiffened at his side. Puddin' stood to make a move toward Logan, and Arcade seemed amused by it all. This was not the way I wanted this to go.

"Logan," I said quietly with admonishment in my voice. I spoke very low so only he could hear it. I didn't want them to see my openly chiding Logan. "Please, I'm trying to conduct business here. Contain your anger for a moment."

He unclenched his fist and glared at Puddin'. "The lady don't wanna see us fight. Maybe next time, cream puff."

"Count on it." Puddin' said. I knew they were both deadly serious. I only hoped I could keep the two of them away from each other. Arcade was near giddy. I could almost see a plan formulating in his head, and it couldn't be good.

"Come now, Puddin'. Don't be so rude to our guest." Arcade said. Puddin' didn't say anything as he leaned back against the wall. Logan and Puddin' continued to glare at each other.

"Let's talk business." I said. I had to get Logan out of there, and I was ready to get away from that place myself. I didn't want any trouble, but if the silent power struggle going on between Puddin' and Logan was any indicator of things, it would get very ugly in here soon.

The door to the office opened, and I turned expecting to see another bodyguard. Instead, a buxom blonde entered the room. She was tall and powerfully built. Muscles flexed in her legs and arms as she moved with the confidently through the room. Deep-set, shocking blue eyes betrayed worldly experience, among other things. All the eyes of the male occupants followed her, and she knew it.

She wore a cropped, white shirt that barely covered the double-d's that were straining to get out. A pair of tight zebra print pants flared around her brown boots. "Howdy y'all," she drawled in a Southern accent, putting an arm around Arcade. Two baby dimples appeared in her cheek when she smiled. She was turning up the charm. Make it stop. One thing was for sure. Nobody male thought about fighting for five whole seconds.

"This is Tina Armstrong." Arcade said.

"Nice to meet you, Ms. Armstrong." I said. Tina started twirling her hair around her finger. Was this woman for real? Okay, I just wanted to get down to business and go. "How old is the corpse you want me to raise, Mr. Torque?"

"Please, call me Arcade," he said.

"Oh no, I couldn't." I almost smirked when his smile dimmed a little.

"The corpse I want you to raise is nearly three hundred years old."

"What?" I said incredulously. He couldn't be serious, but he wasn't smiling anymore. He _was_ serious.

"He said he wants you to raise a corpse that's nearly three hundred years old." Tina said, speaking as if I was deaf. I looked at her as if she just lost her mind, but she looked sincere. It was then that I realized that the woman was as dumb as rocks. Goddess, it figured Arcade would want a dumb woman.

"Yes, I am aware of that part, Ms. Armstrong." I explained, as I continued to stare at Arcade. "Do you know what you are asking of me, Mr. Torque? Do you truly know what you are asking me to do?"

"Yes, I do," he said gravely.

"Didn't you tell me once before that many animators can't raise corpses that old, 'Ro?" Logan asked me.

"Yes, many animators find they can't raise corpses over a certain age. Many, not all." I answered. I had very old magic behind me, archaic magic that predated written language even. He knew this. I didn't know how, but he knew. He knew about my magic. Did he know I was a mutant as well?

"She can do it." Arcade said. His voice started to take this fevered pitch that I associated with madness.

"I can do it, Logan." I said softly at the same time as Arcade. Arcade beamed. Honestly, I had never tried to raise a corpse that old. Not because I didn't want to, but because there were certain issues I had with theritual of raising something that old. I know I could do it. Sometimes when I raised younger corpse I could feel my power reaching out beyond that, yearning to show its true potential. "But I won't do it."

Arcade's smile never left his face. "I'd pay you a million dollars, Ms. Munroe," he said. A million dollars, it was enticing, but not as enticing as what he was asking me to do. I could think of many things that I could think to do with a million dollars, but it wasn't worth any of this.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Torque. I cannot help you."

"I'd supply the white goat," he said. I fought hard to keep myself from smacking him right then and there. How dare he suggest such a thing. I would never do such a thing for money. I was appalled that he would even suggest something like that.

"You'll have to find yourself another animator." I said frowning.

"Do you know of any other animators who could raise a corpse this old?" he asked.

I tried to think of someone, anyone, who was greedy enough to raise a corpse that old for him. I couldn't think of anyone. Even if I could think of anyone, why would I want to help him, anyway? What he was asking was illegal. "No, I'm sorry. You'll have to find someone else on your own."

"I'll up the pay." He said adding a little charm to his voice.

I wasn't interested in more money. No amount of money would make me do that. "Mr. Torque, I don't know what kind of person you think I am, but I will not do this."

"But taking pay to kill vampires is much better than this, isn't it?" Zack said mockingly.

"I'm not paid to kill vampires. It's legal execution. There is no pay involved." I said dryly. I hated when people assumed I took money to kill vampires. I rid the world of vampires because it was the thing to do, not because I was hard up for money.

"I've heard that you're so stake happy that you don't care who you have to stake to get to a vampire." Zack shot back at me.

"I have never killed an innocent human to get to a vampire." I had never jeopardized the life of an innocent human. Yes, I have defended myself against other humans, and the outcome was less than desirable, but I have never intentionally killed a human to get to a vampire. I started to explain all this, but I didn't have to explain myself to Arcade and cohorts.

"Two million." Arcade said.

"Can't you understand plain English? The lady said she ain't interested." Logan said dangerously.

Arcade ignored him. "Two-five," he said.

"This conversation is over, Mr. Torque." I said coolly. Puddin' flashed a little gun my way. Oh, this was how we were going to play, now. "You don't think you're the only person who came to this meeting prepared do you?" I flashed one of my guns at him. Mine was more impressive, anyway. Zack pulled a gun, too. He wasn't the only one with a quick draw. I pulled both my guns from the holsters, aiming one toward Puddin' and the other toward Zack.

"You'd better be a damn good shot, bub." Logan said, as his claws surfaced in his own anger.

"Whoa, what the hell are those things?" Arcade said looking at Logan's claws.

"Wanna find out?" Logan said.

Arcade chuckled nervously. "Okay, let's not get ugly. I'm sorry we couldn't come to an agreement, Ms. Munroe. And talking to the police would be an unwise act, though."

The little weasel was trying to cover all his bases. "Yes, I know. We have no evidence of what you've just proposed I do, and even if we did, money can buy you all the friends you need." I said acidly.

"Beauty and brains," he said with a surly smile. I backed away from them, keeping my eyes on everyone in the room. Logan followed my lead.

"You'll be sorry!" Arcade said as I got the hell out of that office.

The only thing I was sorry about was coming to that meeting, but I hadn't had any other choice. He paid my boss just to talk to me. I wish Edmond had discussed this with me first. I made gravel fly trying to get out of Arcade's driveway once we were in the car. I wasn't scared. I could've handled the situation had it turned ugly. I was angry that Arcade even dared to ask me to do such a thing.

"What the hell just happened? Why were we about to fight over a goddamn white goat? Why did you refuse anyway? He wanted you to sacrifice a white goat, and he was willin' to pay a good sum of money for it. And you said no. And why would we go to the police about a fuckin' goat, anyway?" Logan asked.

I knew what he was getting at. Sometimes I had qualms about sacrificing animals in order to raise the dead, but it's a practice that's been used by my people—and all people who raise the dead—since the beginning of time. This was different, though, very different.

"We were not talking about an actual white goat. The term white goat is just a code, I guess you could call it." I said.

"A code for what?" he asked.

"For a human sacrifice."


	3. Chapter Three

**3.**

Trying on dresses left little time to think about Arcade and the fact that he'd wanted me to kill another person just to raise a corpse for him. I was too worried about the fact that certain dresses made me look fat than Arcade trying to pay me to kill someone. What? I had my priorities in order. The woman who ran the bridal shop, Mrs. Allen, smiled tightly when she saw us walk into the shop. That reaction was mostly because of me.

Weddings were beautiful. I loved them, thought they should be perfect, but I wasn't about to let that woman put me into anything that made me look like I should have 'wide load' painted on my butt. Most of the dresses that woman had picked out said exactly that to me. Maybe all that extra eating had stuck to my bones after all. Yes, I can be shallow at times. I'm still human despite beliefs that suggest otherwise.

Jubilee, Kitty, and Rogue seemed happy with whatever that woman put them in. They said they felt so grownup helping Jean to shop for bridesmaids dresses. Nina, Jean's flower girl, simply adored her dress. And it was adorable. She looked like a little bride. Everyone else was agreeable, and I was being the wicked witch of Westchester. Mrs. Allen was finding it a little hard to cope with me. Not that I blame the poor woman. I could be picky at times.

"You were almost right." I said as I sucked in my stomach and rubbed my hands down the front of the dress I had on. It was a sleek, spaghetti-strapped number that fell to my ankles. The material was heavenly against my skin, and the sage color was so beautiful. It would look perfect for a spring wedding, and I really loved the dress. It was already a little snug, and I hadn't even zipped it up, yet.

"I knew it." Jean said smiling. Then she paused and looked at me. "What was I right about?"

"What was in the box that Vega sent. It wasn't negligee, but I'll let you win this round since it was probably what he really wanted to send me, anyway." I'm glad that it hadn't been negligee. I think I would have been just a little bit offended. He used to try to seduce me in my dreams, sending me lingerie would have just been bad taste in my opinion. "It was a dress he wants me to wear to dinner with him. The same dinner invitation I've turned down at least ten times."

"He's persistent. Have to like that in a man." Jean smiled at me.

Jean was aware that Vega was a vampire, and for whatever reason, she still seemed to like him. I think she was just jaded by all his so-called romantic inclinations. She didn't know how sneaky he could be. She still couldn't remember what happened to her, and sometimes, I was sorely tempted to let her know how much of 'good guy' Vega really was. I wouldn't do that to her, though. Not because I wanted her to think highly of him. I just didn't want her to know about how much danger she'd been in.

"Right. It's _so_ sexy being chased by a man who nearly got me killed last month and is all but demanding I go out with him. " I said sarcastically.

"Nothing that doesn't happen between Scott and me every mission." Jean said.

"Jean, you have a choice in the matter. Besides, Scott doesn't push you _that_ hard." Not as hard as he pushed the rest of us. He did push us to get the job done, but Jean didn't know half of the pressure Scott could put on a person. I don't think he meant to do it deliberately, but still.

"Are you kidding? Sometimes I feel like if I didn't perform well on the field, Scott just might call this wedding off." She said, winking at her reflection and pouting her lips a little.

"Jean, nothing would keep Scott from marrying you," I said with a roll of my eyes, looking at the dress again.

Jean decided she didn't want frilly bridesmaids dresses. I thought it was too early to look at bridesmaids dresses anyway, but apparently, Jean's wedding planner didn't think so. I wonder what Jean's wedding planner would say when she found out one of the groomsmen was blue, furry, and quoted Shakespeare like a pro. She would probably tell Jean to change the color of her wedding because Hank clashed. Jean's wedding planner was a complete bubblehead. Bubblehead? I have to get out more.

Jean twirled around in a bride's dress. She still hadn't decided on a wedding dress. One minute she would think she wanted a Cinderella-style dress and the next she was eyeing a lustrous, strapless dress. Personally, I thought they were all beautiful. I guess I wasn't being much help in that department. It wasn't intentional. I just loved wedding dresses, even though I would probably never marry. I'm okay with that, though. I think.

"Silk?" she asked, running her fingers through her hair. She was talking about the dress Vega sent again.

"Yep," I said tugging on the straps of the dress. She made that 'I-told-ya-so' sound. "A perfect fit too. I can't even get my bridesmaids dress in the right size, and he can find a dress that can fit me perfectly. Zip me?"

"Sure," she said, zipping the dress. "Why don't you have dinner with him? I know he can't actually eat anything and taste it."

"No, but that's what he got me for." I said bitterly.

I was a living, breathing vestibule. Of all the women in New York he could've made his human servant, he chose me. There were more willing women out there. I think he just liked stroking his ego with the fact that I wasn't particular about his kind. He had to be the talk of the vampire town. Vega and his vampire-hunter human servant. Ugh.

Sure, I was friends with Jean-Paul and I "lunched" on the nights I wasn't working. Phil, who ran a bar in town, was also a decent vampire. Vega just irked me, though. Maybe it was because he was a narcissistic, master vampire. This place was overflowing with them. It didn't help that since Vega was now considered the crème de la crème of the vampire community, considering he was now the most powerful vampire in the city.

"I think it would be kind of sexy." She painted a pretty picture of Vega watching me adoringly as I pigged out on some foreign delicacy. Maybe he would even feed me. Or maybe I would lose my lunch all over this dress and give Mrs. Allen a heart attack.

"I know you have issues with him being a vampire and all, but who knows what could happen." She started. She was about to say something that was going to leave me horrified. Wait for it… Wait for it… "I think you two make a cute couple. You would have cute kids. It would take some time to get used to the idea of a night wedding, but it would be beautiful in a gothic romance kind of way. Maybe your wedding dress could be vermillion instead of white. He likes that color, right? You could use my wedding planner, and Mrs. Allen would be able to help you find the perfect dresses."

My own best friend was trying to marry me off to a vampire, to make me use her bubble headed wedding planner, and make me buy dresses from Mrs. Allen. I didn't know betrayal would sting like this. _Et tu, Jean?_ "Children! Jean, are you crazy? I am not having kids with that man. I am not marrying that man. I don't even like him!" I said. I told you she was going to leave me horrified.

Vampire men could produce children with mortal women despite what people believed. Special precautions had to be taken for it to work, and it usually worked better with younger vampires. I don't think vampire women could produce children. At least, I hadn't heard of them producing any. Seems a little unfair to me. Why couldn't vampires marry each other and start a little vampire family? The rules of supernatural law could be so cruel.

What kind of life would that be anyway? I just can't see telling any child of mine he (or she) would have to wait until after eight to play with daddy outside because he has an aversion to the sun. Could you see a child of mine in kindergarten telling his or her peers that his or her daddy ran a vampire strip club? I don't think so, either.

"Ororo, I know you're attracted to him a little." Jean said with a knowing smile. No, I was not attracted to Vega. Okay, maybe a little, but that was what lack of sex would do to you from time to time. Besides, I had my eyes on other prospects – even though this other prospect was starting to confuse me with all the mixed signals.

However, if Jean was trying to scare me, she was doing a good job at doing it. I did not want to have this conversation. I turned to the side, studying myself in the dress. There were matching shoes and elbow-length gloves laying nearby. "Does my butt look big in this?" I asked Jean, trying to change the subject.

The dress was on the tight side. Death by dress asphyxiation, I could see myself passing out as I tried to walk down the aisle. Jean's wedding would be ruined because I was eating like a hog thanks to a certain vampire. That thought wasn't as scary as demonic Vega-spawn terrorizing all of New York, though.

"Ororo, shut up. You're a stick, your butt is in exactly the same place it was when we were seventeen, your breasts don't sag, you don't look a day over twenty-one, and I think I hate you. My guests aren't going to be able to tell who the students are and who the teacher is, but when they all see me they're going to think I'm somebody's older sister who finally got lucky." Jean said.

"Jean, you are not serious." I said with a chuckle. I turned away from the mirror to look at her. Her eyes betrayed seriousness. I couldn't believe Jean really felt that way about herself. Maybe that was just those cold feet talking.

"Ororo, I have crow's feet forming around my eyes, and my skin is too pale. I have to cake on the make up to hide the wrinkles I'm getting. I look like I'm forty." She sighed.

"Jean, you are beautiful!" I said. What was wrong with Jean? I had never heard her say these things about herself before. "You're charismatic and attractive. You draw people to you with your looks and attitude. Haven't you ever noticed the trail of broken hearts you leave behind you?"

"No, Ororo, you're the one who leaves the trail of broken hearts behind you."

"Oh yeah, Jean I just have the men falling at my feet in adoration, don't I?" I said, returning my gaze to my reflection. I couldn't even remember the last time someone asked me out. Vega did not count.

"The most powerful," she paused looking around, "_man _in this city likes you." I could almost see Mrs. Allen passing out if she heard that I had affiliations with the most powerful vampire in the city.

"Correction, he's power hungry and he wants to get into my goody basket. Two things I hate in men. Good guys chase after you. I get the warlords, the blood drinkers, and the crazed rulers."

"Men who are willing to kill whole legions for you. You're a modern day Cleopatra. Those types of men would destroy whole countries for you. Just rub it in the face of us normal women whose boyfriend only occasionally brawl with drunken men at bars or certain gruff types they accuse of eyeballing their girlfriend." Jean laughed when I looked at her horror-struck. "I was just joking around with you. There are other guys who are interested in you Ororo, but you drown yourself in work. I almost think you're using work as an excuse not to have any romance in your life."

"That's not true." I scoffed, but I wasn't so sure it wasn't. It was a lot easier to bury myself in a case than deal with rejection.

"I know guys think I'm pretty in an All-American way, but you're that woman they secretly long after because they don't think they're on your level. They feel they can openly express their attraction to me because I'm less intimidating than you are. They would feel foolish if they openly lusted after you. I know these things. There isn't much that can be kept from a telepath, even one who doesn't read minds unless invited." Jean said.

"Yeah, and that's why you're the one who's found a lifelong love, and I'm still alone, huh? You have someone who loves you, adores you. What you and Scott have is truly beautiful. To him, you don't have crow's feet or too pale skin. To him, you're the most beautiful woman in the world, and no matter what you say, you truly are beautiful, Jean. I have nothing like that in my life."

"Not true. There are plenty of men who want to love you but are afraid to love you," she said with a small smile. She knew something I didn't know. But didn't she always know something I didn't know?

"Yeah, like who?" I asked skeptically. She'd better not get started about Vega again or I was going to go screaming from the bridal shop. Well, I don't think this dress would allow for much running, so I'd go screaming, walking as fast as I could out of the bridal shop.

"Ororo, you chose to bury yourself in work. You're missing the things going on around you by doing that." Jean said in a sing-songy voice, walking away from me. I hated it when she did that to me, and she loved doing that to me.

"That's doesn't tell me who loves me!" I called after her. I would have ran after her and demanded she at least give me a hint, but I could barely breath in that damn dress. Who was I supposed to get to unzip this damn thing now? I was going to die in the dressing room because of a dress. Of all the things that could've cause my death, a dress was going to be the end of it all.

My cell phone rang, and I quickly snatched it out of my purse. My cell phone was one of my newest treats. I had made a lot of changes since the whole Sakura episode. I now carry a cell phone and my pager everywhere. The cell phone was one of the smaller changes I made. "Hello!" I barked into the phone.

"We have a murder." Bayman's voice said on the other end. What, no hello? I didn't answer at first, trying in vain to reach the zipper. I cared about this murder, really, but I was going to die if I didn't get out of that dress. "Munroe? Are you okay?"

"Yes," if you didn't count dresses with the ability to suffocate its wearer as a problem. I cursed silently and just gave up on trying to unzip the thing altogether. "You said there's been a murder. Any details?"

"It's messy, definitely not done by a human."

"Vampire?" I asked, feeling the life being sucked from me. I was going to kill Vega if he didn't hold off the pizza until after Jean's wedding. Mrs. Allen could let the dress out for me a little, but with all the pizza I felt compelled to suck up, I'd probably gain another fifty pounds before Jean's wedding.

"I don't know. That's why we need you here. Pronto."

I took a pad and a pen from my purse. "Address." I said. I was finding it hard to use complete sentences while this dress killed me slowly. Bayman rattled off an address and I told him I would be there in a few. Now if I could just find someone to get me out of this dress!

After having the rescue squad use the Jaws of Life on my dress… okay, I'm kidding. After I finally got someone to get me out of that dress, I drove to the scene. Jean said she would call Scott to pick them up from the bridal shop. Mrs. Allen was just glad to see me go. When I got to the scene, I almost wished I hadn't answered my cell.

Messy? The scene was more than messy. It was a bloodbath, a certifiable massacre. I was going to see this in my nightmares for the rest of my life. There was blood everywhere, and I mean everywhere. There was blood on the walls, the furniture, the ceiling (I didn't even want to think about how that got up there). There weren't very many clean surfaces left in the place.

It actually made me feel a little queasy, actually. It wasn't so much the blood that made me sick, but the thought of how all the blood was shed. Murders that dealt with preternatural suspects tend to be messier than most murders. Though, there have been murders committed by humans that are just as gory.

"Boo!" a male voice said behind me. I turned around to face Davison. He liked to think he was a real comedian. "Have you ever seen so much blood?"

"Not until I started working for you guys on retainer." I said. Even in the field with the X-Men I didn't see this much blood. As a general rule, we tried not to shed too much blood on our missions. Suddenly I found my face in Davison's chest as he cradled me while petting my head. "What the hell are you doing?" I muttered into his chest.

"You looked a little sick, 'Roro. I thought you might need someone to protect ya from the blood." He laughed, his chest rumbling. Davison was harmless. He just liked to joke around a lot.

"Davison, if you don't remove your hands, protecting me from the blood is the last thing you're going to have to worry about." I said with a little laugh.

Davison let me go and put a hand to his chest. "I thought we shared somethin' special. You've hurt me," he said with mock sadness.

"Nothing your wife can't fix after tonight's dinner." I said, patting him on the arm.

"After lookin' at all this, I won't be able to eat for the next three days." Davison said. His voice became somber, reminding me of the reason why I was here. I had yet to see the remains of the people who were murdered here.

Davison led me from the kitchen to the living room. There were sheets everywhere, but I didn't see a whole body under those sheets. Goddess, I hope that didn't mean what I thought it did. Davison didn't remove the sheet. Instead, he led me down the hallway to the bedroom where Bayman was. He was standing by another one of those little humps. I could tell from the look in his eyes that I wouldn't be able to escape looking at what was under this one.

He pulled the sheet back, and I swear what was under it looked like meat you might buy at the butcher's market. But it was a little messier than that. I didn't know what it was. "Ribcage," Bayman informed me. I could only imagine what was under the other sheets. If I'd been a meat eater before this, I definitely wouldn't be now.

"Is this the worse of it?" I said looking down at the flesh. I thought I saw a little bone peeking from beneath the flesh. I have to give this job up. I was never going to be able to have a normal night's sleep looking at this stuff. He led me to a room. It was painted pink with ballerina slippers bordering the wall. Goddess, no. There was a small, bloody handprint on the prissy pink sheets, and I looked away. My blood raged.

"There were two bodies found on the scene… Well, pieces of two bodies found on the scene. The child hasn't been found." He said. I know he was trying to give me hope, but neither of us really believed the child was alive. Anything was possible, though.

We walked around the house discussing the details of the case. It seems that the perp broke—yes, literally broke—through their front door, but none of the neighbors would own up to hearing or seeing anything. Bayman thinks the man investigated first because his remains indicated that he died before the woman. They believed the man tried to phone help when the perp ripped him apart, leaving his parts strewn throughout the kitchen, living room, and dining room.

The woman tried to hide in the bedroom. She locked the door, but the perp smashed through that, too, and then ripped her apart as well. The body parts of both the man and woman showed signs of someone "eating" on them. We ended the tour outside the house where people gathered around the police tape. Adults and children alike gathered at the scene. Who would want their kids to see any of this? I wouldn't.

"We're right to believe that nobody human did this, right?" Bayman asked. "There was no blood on the shattered door, which was the main indicator."

"A human perp would have bled all over the place smashing through doors like that. I'll let you in on a little secret, though, Bayman. Vampires and newly dead zombies also bleed, but you don't have to worry about that since the perp definitely didn't bleed in this case." I wanted to add that a really strong mutant could have done that, but I didn't know of any strong mutants who might have turned into cannibals recently.

"Do you think it was a vampire?"

"Nah, they wouldn't have gnawed on the flesh since they can't taste it."

"Ghouls?"

"We're too far from a cemetery. Besides, they would have destroyed everything not just attacked the humans. They're destructive. We're probably dealing with a zombie. Flesh-eating can be used to retain some of their freshness." I said.

"Are zombies violent?" he asked.

"Not by nature, but they can be commanded to be violent."

"You think someone is using a zombie as a murder weapon?" he asked.

"Perhaps."

"Who do could this?"

"Any animator could do it, Bayman. I mean, it's what animator's do. We raise the dead. We control them. I don't think I know anyone would use a zombie to kill, but I could be wrong."

"I need names, Munroe."

"You want me to tell you everyone I know who could raise the dead?"

"Yes, I would like a list."

I began to ramble off the names of coworkers and other people I knew who could raise the dead. I felt a little like a traitor doing so. When the last name started to form on my lips, I stopped abruptly. "That's all I know." I said suddenly.

"Are you sure?" he asked. Bayman wasn't a dumb man. I know he could see through my act. I looked away from him and nodded. "Who are you protecting?"

"No one, but myself. Just let me check it out first, and if I find anything, I'll let you know."

"Munroe," he said with warning in his voice.

"I promise, Bayman. She won't talk to you or your men, but she'll talk to me. I have to be sure this person is involved before I hand her over. Crossing her can be dangerous. She doesn't fear cops, and she's known to do things to people who cross her." I said. I could tell he wasn't too convinced, but I was trying to maintain the peace by talking to her first.

"You have twenty-four hours, Munroe," he said. "I want some kind of information by then. If you think she's involved, I need to know. If you don't think she's involved, I still need to know."

"Thanks for trusting me. I'll let you know something." I said relieved that he was going to try to force me to tell him anything more.

I left the scene and went straight to the mansion. The first thing I did was phone Joanna Cargill. She was the name I was so reluctant to give. She was a power voodoo priestess. I don't know where she learned, but damn, that woman was good. She was skilled in that death magic I mentioned earlier. I really didn't want to talk to her, but I knew that I had to – as if she was really going to admit to being involved with the murder.

Joanna Cargill agreed to meet me the next morning, Saturday morning. I scheduled her in before the funeral that I was attending with Brad and Matt. Originally, they were supposed to meet me at my apartment. Yes, you heard right. My apartment. After everything that happened with Sakura, I decided that I needed a place of my own. I felt that I was a threat to the children and my teammates. So I made plans to move out. I still wanted to be part of the team, and I still wanted to teach at the school.

I just thought things would be better with me out of the mansion. Too bad I was the only one who felt that way. Jean was the most adamant about me not leaving the mansion. I kept the apartment because it did give me somewhere to escape to. I could go to my apartment when I was having a bad day and needed to be alone. I could study my cases there. You wouldn't believe how much time I spent there. My apartment was my major change, despite much not changing.

Brad was disappointed when I told him that I would meet Matt and him at the church. Brad was nosy, and I knew he was looking forward to me inviting him into my apartment, just so he could have something to torture me with at work. He wanted to see the mansion because he thought my 'little teaching job'—as he called it—was quaint, but there was no way that was going to happen. Brad didn't like children first of all, and I cringed thinking about his reaction to _mutant_ children.

Joanna was a strong voudoun—voodoo as it's commonly called—priestess. Perhaps, the most powerful on this side of the hemisphere. She was skilled in necromancy and voodoo – a lethal combination. If anyone was capable of raising a zombie and ordering it to kill without mercy, it was Joanna Cargill. I was almost willing to bet all my money that she had something to do with it. If she didn't do it, she knew who did.

Still, I didn't just want to send the police to her house. The consequences for such an action would be severe. She would want to know who sent them, and she would want to know why. I didn't want a confrontation with her. In order to avoid such a confrontation, it was best if I asked her about her involvement in the murder myself. I just loved putting myself in these situations.

- - -

**_Author's Notes:_** Thanks for all the reviews everyone. I'm glad you're enjoying the beginning of all this. Tough Spirit, don't worry about not reviewing earlier. Review whenever you feel like it. :) Joanna Cargill is a mutant from the comics. I just happened to flipping through some old comics and just decided to randomly use her. The expression _Et tu _is latin for "You too?" It was used by Julius Caesar when his friend Brutus betrayed him along with the other men in Shakespeare's play – "Et tu, Brutus?"


	4. Chapter Four

**4.**

Voudoun. Voodoo. Where do I even begin with this one? It's a subject of sick fascination for those who practice neither necromancy nor voodoo. Both were seen as some sort of sideshow attraction for the 'normals'. Voodoo especially has been the subject of fascination for hundred of years. In the early days, many necromancers converted to voudoun to make money for themselves and their families.

Voodoo is a touchy subject with necromancers and practitioners of the religion alike, especially since Voodoo is one of those "less desirable" ways to become a necromancer. Many people believe that voodoo is an evil religion and just that. They think that the religion ends at the evil it is capable to create, but is it?

I think the thing that scares people most about voodoo is the fact the people who practice voodoo embrace darker elements. If a person was demon possessed, most people would try to get an exorcism – if they believe in that. People who practiced voodoo were more interested in making the possession a learning process. They've been known to even invoke a spirit into themselves. That's just an example, but many elements of the religion were like that.

At the same time, Voodoo could be seen as a tribute to the ones who started the religion. Voudoun priests and priestesses believed that past practitioners of the religion who'd died made sure things went well with the magic, making the magic stronger, even. Like all religions, voodoo is very complex, but people like to focus on the negative. Who cares about voodoo philosophy when you want to see someone stick pins in a doll?

The religion can be dangerous. People often seek voodoo for vengeful purposes because it does have an extraordinary amount of dark magic behind it. Many voodoo practitioners are kind of scary. I think the sheer amount of power that voodoo lends its wielder gives them a confidence they might not have had before the religion.

Is voodoo evil? I knew people who practiced who were truly decent people, and I knew people who practiced who were truly malevolent. So, I don't know. It's not exactly the most benign of religions, but few religions prove they are truly benign. I let people draw their own conclusions about it. If you choose to believe popular media, then you are severely limiting yourself.

Some necromancers take great offense to being accused of practicing voodoo. Despite our own abilities being seen as dark, many necromancers believe that voodoo is pure evil and do not want to be affiliated with the religion. You don't exactly get the best reputation practicing voodoo since most people tend to think it's evil.

Joanna Cargill, she was the most powerful voodoo priestess I'd ever encountered. I swear this woman never aged, and I think some of that had to do with her magic. When I was a teenager, she looked as if she was around forty-years-old. I'm nearly thirty-years-old, and she still looks the same age she did when I was a teenager. She should be up there in age, and she wasn't showing any signs of aging.

Yeah, I know some people aged gracefully, but still, there should be signs of slight aging. Some lines around the eyes or something. Either she had a really good plastic surgeon, or there was more going on there than she would admit.

I showered and pulled on my simple, black dress – the acclaimed funeral dress. I ran a brush through my hair, securing it back with a few pins. I was going to the funeral of another animator, Cole Burke. First, I had to see Joanna before I went to the funeral. We set up this meeting in enough time for me to talk to her and get to the church on time.

I decided to leave the weapons at home. I didn't expect this thing to get ugly, and that should have been enough to prompt me to take the guns. The unexpected always happened. However, I didn't have to be cautious about using my powers against Joanna. She wasn't exactly the type of person who liked bringing attention to herself. She liked to work her dirt behind the scenes with as little noise as possible. She was like a snake hidden in the grass.

Joanna lived in a peaceful neighborhood. All bad activity stayed outside of her neighborhood by order of Joanna herself. Drugs, violence, gangs were all banned from her neighborhood, and the gangs listened. Many of them believed in Joanna's voodoo. You could kill many things with a bullet. A zombie wasn't one of them, though.

Even those who didn't believe in Joanna's "hoodoo" were not quick to test whether it was true or not, especially after a group of fifteen gang members disappeared when they dared to enter Joanna's neighborhood. They still haven't been found, and that was three years ago.

I pulled into Joanna's driveway. A little girl drove her tricycle in circles around the yard. Two teenage boys were playing cards on the porch. They looked up when I pulled up. A man around my age was sitting by the door. His holster peeked from beneath his jacket. Maybe I was wrong about this not being hostile. On the sidewalk, I spied diagrams and crude drawings. Offerings from Joanna's loyal followers. Tokens of their appreciation for keeping the neighborhood safe.

"You are Ms. Munroe?" he asked.

"Yes." I said. He introduced himself as Jolan. His lips lingered too long on the back of my hand when he kissed it. He wouldn't tell me what his relationship was to Joanna. Maybe he was her son. Another older man appeared through the door. I guessed he was about the age Joanna should've been. Husband? I thought about asking, but thought better of it. The older man showed me through the door. Jolan followed. I could feel his eyes on my backside. Men.

The house was decorated in all warm colors, but no warmth emanated from house. The older man led me to the kitchen where Joanna sat. She had her best congenial expression on her face.

"I have heard about you, young one," she said. I stood in the middle of the kitchen unsure of whether I should sit or if I should just stand there. "I have heard stories of your power."

I almost asked who was going around talking about me. That would have been childish, though. "I didn't know you wanted to meet me." I answered. Joanna and I have met only in passing really. We'd never really conversed at any great lengths before.

"No matter. All who deal in the voudoun meet with me eventually," she replied.

Wait a minute here. I don't deal in anything. "I'm sorry, but I don't have anything to do with the voudoun." I said.

She learned across the table, her face losing some of its congeniality. "You animators, I believe you call yourself, like to believe your powers have nothing to do with voudoun. You are sadly mistaken."

She laughed and sat up in her chair. She held her hand out to me like a Mafia don. She wanted me to kiss her hand. I went forward reluctantly. I had to play nice right now. I was trying to avoid any situations that could possibly occur from this meeting. Her skin felt like satin beneath my lips. She offered a chair to me.

"Do you want power, young one?" she asked me. Something about the way she looked at me frightened me. It was too early in the day to be scared witless, but there was something flowing from her, something powerful, something frightening.

"No." I answered.

"I don't think you truly believe that."

Joanna said quietly. Maybe she was right. At times, I wanted all the power of the world at my fingertips, and some might argue that I did have that power readily available. But I knew that I couldn't ever hope to control that much power. That wasn't meant for me. I didn't want it that badly. I looked into her eyes. I know she didn't possess the charm of the vampires, but something about her eyes made my skin prickle. Goddess.

She was using her magic. She was testing me. For what I didn't know. I just held her eyes, feeling a sort of warmth flow between us. I felt myself swaying forward against my command. A jolt of heat seemed to flow from me, and I felt it beat against her psyche. It literally slammed her backwards in her chair, causing it to scrape a bit across the floor. I stood up quickly, too quickly. I would have fallen if the Jolan hadn't steadied me.

"What the hell did you do?" I asked her.

"It's not what I did to you. It's what you did to me," she said. The older man went to her, and she waved him away. "I'm okay."

"Excuse my rudeness, but I didn't come here for games." I said sternly. I didn't sit again. I just wanted to ask my questions and get away from there. I never thought I would be so anxious to get to a funeral.

"No games." She said.

"I did not come here to be harmed either." I said. I wasn't there to play any freaky voodoo games, and I wasn't there to fight. I just wanted answers.

"No harm will come to you, unless you choose otherwise." I didn't like the way she said that. She had no intentions of helping me or answering my questions. She'd only seen an opportunity to lure me to her lair, and like an idiot. I fell for it. Jolan was still holding onto my arm, and I snatched it away from him.

"I think I should be leaving." I said, turning on my heel.

"Don't you wish to find the child?" she called behind me. I stopped abruptly. How did she know about the child? "I know someone on the inside of the precinct. He informed me of the missing child. She is far too young to be in the hands of a bokor."

"What is a bokor?" I turned back to her, walking toward her again. "If you know where that child is…"

"Endure my… games, as you call them, and I will tell you everything you _need_ to know. Put your hand palm up on the table."

What could I do? If the child was still alive and she knew about it, I had to play her little games. I put my hand on the table as she instructed and hoped I left that house with all my limbs.

"Delay may cost the child her life." I said, trying to see where her morals rested. Did she care enough to readily help me? Or did she see this as a game?

"Do you believe the child is alive?"

Apparently, this was all still a game to her. "No." I answered honestly.

"Then we have time for a little chat."

She produced a small, black bag from beneath the table and took out a gris-gris. It was a mess of feathers and bone with a type of bird claw sticking from the mess. She was going to stab me with it. I could just see her hacking away at my body with the claw, but she didn't stab me. She placed the gris-gris in my hand. Everyone looked at it fascinated, but I felt sort of stupid. That was until the thing started moving. The claws flexed in my hand. Then I stared fascinated, too.

"Can we discuss business now?" I asked, still watching the gris-gris.

"You are not surprised," she said, removing the gris-gris from my hand.

"I'm a necromancer. Dead things tend to like me." I said sarcastically. That wasn't nearly as scary as having your biology project hop away from you at seventeen.

"You think raising the dead is like mind reading, like parlor tricks?"

She obviously didn't get out much if she thought telepathy was a parlor trick. Either that or she had never met telepaths with the power of the Professor. Telepaths were scary in their own right, nearly as scary as Joanna herself. "I know a few good telepaths who would leave you screaming in your bed at night." I said.

She laughed again. "Ask me." She said.

Finally, we could do what I came here for. "Have you raised any zombies recently?"

"A few." She was calm. Maybe too calm. Is that even possible?

"Have you raised any to be used in revenge?" I asked.

"No." Her face was perfectly calm. I couldn't tell if she was lying or not. Not that I expected her to just come out and tell me if she raised a zombie to murder people.

"Sure?"

"I think I would remember if I raised any murderers." She said with a little laugh.

"Zombies raised with the intent to use as killers don't have to be murderers."

"You've raised killer zombies?"

I squirmed in my seat. Do I lie or tell the truth? If I lied, she'd probably know. "One, and I don't want to talk about it."

"Tell me." She used that tone that mothers used when their children wake up from nightmares. It was soothing and reassuring; the kind of voice that lets you know everything was going to be okay.

"It's a private matter really." I said firmly, hoping she wouldn't press the issue.

"How many corpses have you raised?"

"I don't know." Why was she always changing the subject?

"Guesstimate."

"Hundreds." I answered.

"A thousand, perhaps?"

"Maybe."

"Has your boss kept track?" she asked.

"Yes." My boss was meticulous like that, but then again, most bosses probably were. He kept files on people who used out services, even for just consultations.

"I'd be interested in knowing."

"If I can get it, I will."

She smiled at me with approval. "I did not raise the zombie, but I know people who may have raised the zombie, people who will not talk to you. I will question them for you." She said.

I sighed relieved. "Thank you."

"However, there is one last test you must pass first."

Oh hell. More tests. "What sort of test?" I had a feeling this one was going to be much bigger than just a flexing claw.

"Come with me to the basement and I will show you." She said in a coaxing voice. I thought about telling her to forget it, but I saw the little bloody handprint in my mind, and I knew I wouldn't refuse her. People would talk to her because they were afraid of her, and I needed that right now.

I didn't like basements. Okay, let me rephrase that. Some people have basements and they're only partially underground, and some people have basements that are completely underground. I didn't like the latter. Something about knowing that I was underground made me feel like I was buried alive. I mean what if the house collapses? I would basically be trapped in a huge tomb. I cringed at the thought. The mansion had a huge subbasement, but I knew I was safe in the mansion. Here, all bets were off.

Joanna's basement was complete underground. It came complete with the rickety steps and the dim lighting. A knot of anticipation, of fear, twisted in my stomach. The smell of death commingled with the smell of evilness. If I hadn't believe Joanna was evil before this, I would definitely believe now. The evil of this place burned my skin. This was her humfo, and it reeked of evil.

A humfo is a voodoo sanctuary. It was where a mambo (a voodoo priestess) or hungan (a voodoo priest) performed their rituals, contacted and invoked the loa, or spirits. Humfos had drawings of snakes, flowers, and saints. There were also voodoo symbols painted in the belief they would protect the sanctuary. Paintings of skulls and bones remind people they cannot escape death or the dead. Creepy, wasn't it?

I breathed deeply as Joanna led me down a narrow hallway. Too narrow for my tastes, but it had to lead to a bigger room. I don't think Joanna and her followers practiced voodoo cramped up like sardines. The smell of death became stronger as we continued. Its fingers snaked around my throat, causing me to gag a little. There were doors at regular intervals. Some of the doors were covered in cement. I let my fingers brush against the cement of some of the doors, frowning deeply. What was behind those doors? More importantly, did I really want to know?

There was a padlock on one of the doors and something leaned heavily against the door as we passed. I heard a sort of sigh come from behind the door. I paused. The smell coming from beneath the door was ghastyly. More sounds came from behind the door and I felt myself back up. I bumped into a body. Jolan. He was behind me. I composed myself and quickly walked pass the door. There was another door coming up and curiosity got the best of me. I pushed the unlocked door open.

It was pretty small. The walls were painted white. It was some type of holding pen. Jolan slammed the door. I held up my hands in peace. No worries. I wasn't going to cause anymore trouble.

The hallway led to a large room, just as I thought. The room painted white like the walls of the cells. Symbols were painted on the floor in red and black. "_Vévé_" I said.

"Right." Joanna said. he symbols on the ground were called _vévé_They were used to summon and invoke the loa – the voodoo deities. I walked carefully around the symbols. I stood in front of Joanna. She stood close to an altar. I could see dried blood and clumps of fur and feathers on the altar. I didn't even want to think about what went on there.

A zombie woman stood on one side of the altar. Shining blonde hair brushed past her waist. That was the only thing that looked alive on her. Someone had attempted to put makeup on her. The pink eye shadow stood out against her gray skin. It was so pathetic. Another woman stood on the other side of the altar. She looked almost like a statue standing there. Her skin looked like as if it was carved out of the finest ebony. Long black hair fell to her shoulders. Her makeup was perfectly done. Her eyes held real fear.

I studied her for a moment. I could feel my brow creasing. She was a zombie, too, but she shouldn't be looking at me like that. There was still something very human about the fear I saw in her eyes. It wasn't animalistic like the fear zombies usually register. I looked back toward the other woman. She had that same look. I shook my head.

"What have you done?" I whispered.

"You tell me," she said. "This is your test. If you can't tell me what has been done, then you are not as powerful as I believed."

I walked toward the zombies, passing Joanna carefully. I could still see that fear in their eyes as I inspected them closely. I saw something else, too. Hope. The kind of hope prisoners of war had when they thought they were saved. They thought I was here to save them; they wanted me to be here to save them. Zombies shouldn't have that kind hope.

I could feel personality pulsating from these women. All humans' personality emanated from them. It was how you told a bookworm from an adventurer. The aura of personality was what made you "feel" someone was a bad influence, or a naïve person, or generally confused. Zombies should not have that. Death took that from you, and when a corpse was animated, it could never regain that. I walked away from the two women.

How had I known the woman in perfect condition was dead? Everything about her screamed alive. Her flesh was flawless. She looked alive. Something just told me that she was dead. I guess being a necromancer I was able to identify the dead, even if I couldn't by looking at them. What had Joanna done? I went over the clues again. Then, I knew exactly what she'd done.

I had to wait three days after burial to raise a corpse. What was I waiting for? Well, I was waiting for the soul to leave the body, which isn't as quick as people think. The soul likes to linger for a while. I couldn't raise spit until the soul was gone. If an animator can raise a body from the grave with the soul still there, we had a resurrection. So far, that had never happened, but this is what I was witnessing – resurrected corpses.

"They have their souls." I said. "How?"

"The soul can be captured as it leaves the body."

"So, you capture someone's soul, raise the corpse, and put the soul back into their body." I said disgusted.

"Exactly." She sounded pleased. I was horrified.

"Why is the blonde one rotting? Theoretically, she shouldn't rot since she has her soul."

"True, but I can take the soul out and put it back in at will."

"So you took her soul out and she rotted to this point. You put it back in and she stopped rotting."

"Correct."

"And she's aware of the state she is in since she has her soul."

"Correct again."

She was worse than I thought. She wasn't just evil. She was pure evil. Why would subject anyone—dead or not—to that kind of torture? I breathed angrily, trying to control the scathing words I wanted to say. "Why would you do something like that?"

"Let's just say that with a soul zombies start to become a little rebellious." She said. That meant they regained their will to think for themselves, their sense of self. "I used her as an example, to show that they shouldn't cross their commander."

"And did she learn?" I asked, speaking of the other zombie.

"Oh yes, and she brings in a nice income. People pay nicely for her."

"You sell her body for money." I said. A dull thumping started in my temple. What kind of monster was this woman? How could she justify her actions?

"Perhaps, but don't pity them. They were evil women, and their families paid me to do just what I am doing." She said. It was illegal to tamper with bodies. The families gave her the right to do this, however, which made it perfectly legal. And she could do whatever she wanted to the zombies because they had no rights. "There's so much I could teach you."

"No, this is wrong. Even among people who practice voodoo, this is wrong. You're keeping the souls from joining the lao." I said with a shake of my head. Even in voodoo, there were limits. This was one of them. The soul was revered in many religions. It shouldn't be deterred from moving on. It was inhumane to do something like this.

"Think about the money we could make working together. People have longed to find out how to retain the soul. You could be as powerful as me."

Tutelage from pure evil. No thanks. "I don't want power or money. I have morals, and this is wrong. I won't have anything to do with it. It looks like you're doing fine on your own. Now, I've endured your test. You must do as you promised." I said through clenched teeth.

She nodded. "I will talk to others and see what they know."

I looked at the zombies again. I stared at the rotting one. "You should at least put her to rest. She's been tortured enough. I know I can't stop you from doing this, but have a little decency."

"Oh, but I already have a buyer for her. You should reconsider, young one."

A necrophiliac. Goddess. This just got worse and worse. "You thrive on fear and immorality, and I will never be like you. I couldn't stand the thought of living with a black pit where my heart should be."

"You should have more respect."

"Respect is earned, not given. People may fear you, but they don't respect you." I spat at her. Okay, maybe my temper was starting to get the best of me. It was definitely starting to get the best of me, and I had to get out of there.

"Don't cross me, young one. You're playing a game you can't win."

"If you try to hurt me, I'll make you regret it." Oh Goddess, I was exchanging insults with the strongest mambo in all of America and it felt damn good. I knew that probably wasn't the smartest thing to think at the moment.

"Threats won't keep you safe."

"You either." I looked her squarely in the eye, never blinking. Then, I turned on my heel and walked away from the room. I pushed past Jolan and found myself back in the hallway. The light in the hallway went out as if by someone's doing. That bitch. It was dark but I kept going forward, knowing eventually I would run into the stairs.

The sound of something breaking through wood sounded behind me, followed by the rush of death overtaking me. Oh hell, whatever was behind that door had just got out, and from the way it was walking or dragging or whatever it was doing, it sounded rather large. Now would be a good time to start running. I sped through the hallway blindly. A slither of light appeared from the doorway, lighingt the stairs dimly. I rushed up the stairs, opened the door, and fled quickly out of the house.

When I was safely by my car, I stood in her lawn looking back at her house. The first rumblings of thunder started in the distance. The wind made my hair rustle at my shoulders. I clenched my hands at my side. I could rip the house from its foundation, and I would have done it too, but the little girl from earlier came speeding from behind the house on her tricycle. Saved.

- - -

**_Author's notes:_** Any mistakes in this chapter will be fixed -- eventually. :)

Lerie, I'm glad that writing this story and the one before this prompted you to go out and start purchasing the series. It's definitely one of my favorite vampire series, and I'm glad that I could pass on the love to others. I definitely encourage people to buy the series. And don't forget to drool all over Jean-Claude! ;)

Darkstorm5000, thanks for your review. I'm glad that you're enjoying this. I've tried to make these stories as readable as possible, even for people who aren't familiar with various aspects of vampire lore. Super Street Fighter II is one of my absolute favorite games, ever. I still play it now and revel in the nostalgia, and I don't think I even have to mention who my favorite character is. ;)

Monica, I'm currently spending some time with my family and editing hasn't been as forthcoming as I'd like since my family home is a madhouse. Literally. "Miseria Cantare" needs more editing time because I wrote it so rapidly for NaNoWriMo. Because of the madness that is my home, I haven't had much time to devote the attention to it that I need. I'm also fighting sickness, which sometimes hampers progress.

Crypticnotions, thanks for your reviews, too. I really enjoyed your BMW story. Many of the stories in this section leave me wanting where Jean and Ororo's friendship is concerned. I guess the comic books have spoiled me, and I think Ororo and Jean have to be best friends in everything.


	5. Chapter Five

**5.**

Why couldn't animators stay alive long enough to live a full life?

I didn't like funerals, but I felt obligated to be here, even if I hadn't liked the deceased. Brad and Matt saved me a seat. Probably more of Matt's idea. Brad was indifferent to me at best. I honestly believed he just didn't like me. It was as if we were rivals or something. But today, Brad was somber. He'd been friends with Cole, and I often joked about the fact that two of the biggest jerks I knew were good friends.

There seemed to be a million people in the church. It was packed, and there were still people entering the church. Cole couldn't have had that many friends. Not Cole Burke. Maybe we were at the wrong funeral. I saw Edmond and his wife (Can you believe the guy was married?) sitting with Bishop and his wife, Tessa. Bishop nodded and Tessa gave me a little wave. I nodded back at both of them.

I hadn't like Cole Burke. I'd thought he was an asshole and had told him that many times to his face when he was alive. I know I'm not the only person he pissed off, but death gives the dead some kind of sainthood. Cole was pretentious and just plain spiteful.

He'd been murdered. The case was currently unsolved. There were no suspects because numerous people hated Cole. Someone took a .357 magnum and put it to Cole's head. I don't think I need to explain why he couldn't be raised and asked about his killer. You put a .357 to someone's head and see what happens.

William Burke stood silently beside Cole's widow who looked like she was in the throes of death herself. He was also an animator. I'd spoken with him before when he was visiting. I worked on case with his brother and him. He was much better known than his brother was. He was one of those flashy types hailing all the way from New Orleans, but he was less annoying than Cole was. He was actually pretty nice.

He was rumored to dabble in the voodoo, too, and it's awfully damn convenient he happened to be in town when all these murders start happening. Burke turned to look at me, and I sent a sympathetic smile his way. Okay, I should cut the guy a little slack, right? Here I was trying to profile him as a killer when his brother was murdered. Could I be any more insensitive?

All families had interesting family members and history. The Burke's were no exception. Their powers were rumored to have started with one of their nefarious Irish ancestors named William Burke (who William shared his namesake with). William Burke—the ancestor, not the one present here—was a body snatcher. Med students wanted more experience working with the human bodies in the early 1800s, so cadavers were high in demand. William Burke lured people into his home, got them drunk, and smothered them to death. Then, he sold the bodies to medical classes.

It is believed that, aside from being a body snatcher, William was a necromancer. There are obscure records of William's partners in crime the Hares and his girlfriend, Helen McDougal, telling the authorities about some "strange going ons" with some of the corpses. They described some of the corpses seemingly coming back to life at William's will. Was he the first Burke necromancer? No one knows, but I bet that he is. And even if he wasn't, it's much more interesting telling people that the first necromancer in your family was a famed criminal who stole bodies and murdered people.

During the funeral, tears actually slipped out of Brad's eyes. I would have been horrified if my maternal instincts hadn't kicked in. I reached for Brad's hand. He willingly let me hold his hand, and he squeezed my hand tightly as William did the eulogy. This would never happen again. Tomorrow, we'd be at each other's throats again, but today we were almost friends.

At the gravesite, Cole's widow broke down. It was heartbreaking watching her drop to her knees. She clawed at the casket, as if she were trying to claw her way into it. Two small children looked around confused. I hadn't seen them in the church, but I figured they had to be Cole's children. It was a shame that children had to go through this.

Brad caught up with me after Cole's burial. He wasn't crying anymore, but his eyes were still red and puffy, remnants of crying. Once the compassionate side of me died down, I would feel weird knowing that I'd held Brad's hand. I didn't even speak to Brad unless I had to.

"The police won't tell the family anything," he said.

"They're working on it, Brad." I assured him. It wasn't a case that I was working on because it wasn't supernatural in nature, but I'd heard some of the other officers talking about it.

"Then, why won't they talk to the family?"

"I don't know."

"I know you have connections with the police. Could you find out something, anything, for me?" Brad asked.

"I'll see what I can do, but don't expect much. If they won't talk to you, they may not talk to me either."

"Thanks, Ororo," he said. I think that's the first time I'd ever heard Brad thank me for anything besides 'wasting his precious time'. Goddess, I hope this didn't last. I think I liked him better as a jerk. I knew how to handle him when he was condescending and irritating. I wasn't sure how to regard him now. We said out goodbyes, and Brad disappeared from sight.

I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I turned to face William Burke. "Hello William."

"Hello to you, too, Ororo," he said politely, "and thank you for coming. I know you and Cole didn't get along."

"I'm sorry about Cole. He really was an excellent animator." I felt stupid for saying that. I hadn't like Cole, but he did get the job done. He held out his hand to me. He winced a little when he we shook hands. I know my grip could be firm, but it wasn't that strong.

"You have had a brush with death today. Don't go back to the mansion. Your life is in danger. If you go back to the mansion, you'll endanger the children. You tempted the devil, and she intends to make you pay," he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. "What? How?" I couldn't even get a complete question out. He knew about Joanna, or at least sensed something happened, and I wanted to know how.

"Precognition," he said with a wry smile. He pulled his hand away from mine. "A gift from my mom's side of the family. Effects only those of us with violet eyes."

"Those are natural?" I asked. His eyes were an impossible shade of violet. The color was so vivid they couldn't be real. At least, I hadn't believed they were real. Contacts made anything possible these days, and I always figured he wore contacts.

He nodded. "I'm the first male in the family to be born with them. All the other precogs before me were women. Cole used to tease me a lot about it." He smiled a faraway smile, as if he were remembering some distant memory. I had no problems believing Cole teased him about his eyes. He probably teased him maliciously, too. Cole was a bastard… used to be a bastard. I know I shouldn't speak ill of the dead, but it was the truth.

We were silent for a moment. "Did you see anything else… in your vision I mean?" I asked.

"No, I just know that you are in danger, and you must keep it away from the children." William said, his mouth setting in a grim line. My anger flared at Joanna, and I teased the idea of going back to her house and striking it with everything I had. I would let her strike first, though. Then, I would strike back harder.

"Thanks for the warning, William."

"No need to thank me. I didn't even know you were in danger until I touched your hand." He said. That makes me wonder what else he saw while he shook my hand.

"Can you control it?" I asked. "Your precognition, can you control it?"

"Yes. I have it well under control, but sometimes, such as now, when I make contact with others, I'll involuntarily get a vision." He said. Then he looked away from me to his family. "I'll see you around, Ororo. I need to be with my family."

"I understand. Take cake, William."

He nodded and started to walk away from me. Then, he paused in mid-stride. "You inspired me, you know," he said, turning back to me.

"Inspired you?"

"The last time I was here I watched you take out a vampire," he said with a chuckle. "I followed you because I used my gift to try to read you. I didn't see much. Don't worry. But I did get a vision about you killing a vampire, and I was curious. I'm a certified hunter now."

Then, William turned and continued on his way. I thought back to the last time I saw him. I noticed that he asked many questions concerning vampire slaying, but then I figured he was just curious like most people are. I'd been given the okay to take out a fairly young vampire who was stalking a family. The vampire had already killed two of the family members, and when he went for number three, I was waiting for him.

I walked back to my car, troubled. Okay, I was in danger. Not that that was anything unusual. I was always in constant danger. I needed to talk to Bayman about Joanna. But what was I supposed to tell him? What did it matter? Joanna was going to attempt to kill me, so it didn't matter what I told him. It looks like I was camping out at the apartment tonight.

My cell phone rang. It was Bayman. He always called at the most convenient times. "We found the little girl." Bayman said. His voice sounded a little strained. I was afraid to ask if the little girl was in the same condition as her parents. "We're at the Reynolds cemetery." He promptly hung up. I was left to assume the little girl was dead. He would've told me if she was still alive. I shuddered and made my way to the crime scene. I just don't think I wanted to see this.

At the scene, I opened my trunk and pulled on the black sneakers I kept for such an occasion. Bishop was already on the scene. I hadn't seen him at the burial, so he must've been called to the scene earlier. He met me just as I ducked under the tape. "How bad is it?" I asked.

"Depends on what you consider bad," he answered.

"Did you see pictures of the scene where they found the parents?" I asked. That was my new means of comparison for the 'worst thing I ever saw'. Before that, it'd been an alternate dimension I was stuck in with my teammates called Limbo. I'd seen horrors that I never wanted to see again, but it wasn't as bad as what I saw at that house. Or maybe time had just graciously dimmed the details of Limbo.

"Yeah."

"Is it worse than that?"

"It's a child, Ororo." He said almost helplessly.

He didn't have to say anything more. The scene wasn't bloodier, but it was worse because this was a child. Monsters shouldn't murder children. It was an unspoken rule. Kill all the adults you wanted, but have pity on the children. They were so innocent. I didn't want to see the child, but Bishop was leading me toward a blanket with a small lump under it.

Bayman was standing by the body, his face emotionless. He was getting good at that. I guess you would have to be good at appearing calm. Work like this could drive you crazy. The scent of fresh blood assaulted my nose as I walked toward the body. The child hadn't been dead long. I didn't have time to compose myself before the blanket was pulled back.

She hadn't been ripped apart like her parents, but whatever killed her had ripped her stomach open like an animal. I breathed hard. She was so small, so helpless, and the trampled, blood-splattered grass showed signs of a struggled. The child tried to escape. My throat burned. I ripped my eyes away from the small body, but it was forever imprinted in my mind.

Bayman looked at me. "Did you speak to her?"

"Yes, I spoke to Joanna Cargill." I said, speaking her name at last. "She says she didn't do it, and I believe her."

"Why's that?"

"Because I don't think she'd be this dramatic with the deaths." She was probably going to command zombies to rip me apart, and here I was telling Bayman that she didn't do it. Where's my mind again?

"You mean she'd just bibbity boppity booed someone to death." That might've been funny if he had said that before I saw the ripped remains of the child. Bayman had some doubts were voodoo were concerned. Those doubts rendered him too bold for his own good at times. "How did you get her to talk to you anyway? I was told she's uncooperative. Gracious, but uncooperative."

Joanna's been questioned in a few other crimes, but she never told the police much. "I guess I just have a winning personality. She said she would talk to others who might know about the murders. Meanwhile, you might want to add William Burke to your list of suspects. He's here. His brother is Cole."

"On top of it. He might have been involved in a murder in New Orleans." Bayman said.

I raised my eyebrows. "What is he doing out of state, then?" I asked. I thought there were laws that kept suspected murderers from fleeing to another state.

"No evidence."

I knew William practiced voodoo, but he didn't seem like the type that would murder someone. Then again, at first glance, Joanna didn't seem like the type of person that prostituted out zombies. It was easy to pick out the bad guy when he's a monster. Vampire, wereanimals, zombies, ghouls, those were usually the monsters I dealt with. They were easy to spot. The lines blurred when the monster was a human, though, especially one who appeared perfectly 'normal' at first meeting. Think Bundy and Dahmer.

"The other murders, did they take place nearby?" I asked.

"Yes."

There had been more murders that the police suspected were done by the same perp who did this. They'd gone through a list of recent cases and seen that some of the unsolved murders followed the same pattern as this one. "Maybe this cemetery is a clue, then." I said.

"Elaborate."

"Well, the zombie could've been raised from this cemetery. If voodoo was used, there would be chalk symbols on the ground, dried animal blood, maybe signs of a fire."

"And if it wasn't voodoo."

"It was an animator. You would just look for dried blood."

"Are you sure it's not a vampire or a ghoul?" he asked.

"I'm almost positive. If it was a vampire, it probably came from this cemetery, which means it would have to return before dawn to get in its coffin. If it's a ghoul, it would probably hide underground somewhere nearby, but the evidence points to a zombie."

"If it came from this cemetery, could you find out?"

"Maybe." Sometimes, I can feel the dead in their coffins. Sometimes, I can't. The dead sometimes died in a state of restlessness. These were the easiest type to 'feel'.

"We'll give you whatever you need."

"I work best at night. You'll need fire. Bullets will destroy a zombie's body, but it won't stop them. You'll need a team of exterminators complete with napalm and flamethrowers, just in case we find the perp."

"What time?"

"Just after dark because this could take hours." I said.

"I'll have a team out here."

"What can you tell me about Cole Burke's murder?"

"You know I can't discuss that with you."

"I know, but the family is anxious to know details, and it'll be a way for me to keep in touch with William."

"You get along well with our suspects. I'll see what I can do. Do you know what jurisdiction he was found in?"

"No, but that'll give me a reason to talk to William again, and there's something you should know about him."

"What's that?"

"He's a precog."

"Meaning, he might play us like fools. Gotcha."

I didn't stay at the scene too much longer after that. I just couldn't stand looking at the girl's body anymore. I thought about going by the mansion, but I take warnings from precogs very serious. I was going straight my apartment. I would call the mansion to let them know I was okay, but I wouldn't be coming home tonight.

My apartment was quaint. That was why I picked it. It was a comfortable size. The walls were painted in warm colors that I complimented with furniture in the same color scheme. I never expected to get an apartment and then have my best friend threaten to put me in a psychic coma if I left the mansion for good. That just isn't the kind of thing you factor into a decision to rent an apartment.

After I changed my clothes, I called the mansion. Logan agreed to drop off my case files. Remy asked if he could come along. I heard Logan grumbling in the background about Remy. I told him it was okay as long as Logan said it was okay. After hanging up with them, I wrote down a couple of things I needed to do.

My list was simple. I needed to talk to Robert, I needed to do a little research, and I needed to stay alive. I sat in front of my computer. I still didn't know what a 'bokor' was. I started scouring the internet for information. The internet has to be one of the greatest inventions ever. After a few seconds of searching, I found out that a bokor, or caplata, was a 'voodoo sorcerer' – better known in modern culture as the evil witch doctor. I wrote all this information down in my notebook I keep by the computer.

Someone knocked on the door. I knew Logan couldn't be here already unless he drove like a bat out of hell, which he was known to do. I walked to the door slowly and looked out the peephole. Green hair. Teakwood skin. A big smile. Arcade's henchman, Jack… or was that Zack? I shrugged my shoulders and opened the door cautiously.

"What do you want?" I said. You didn't have to go through the usual formalities with bad guys. I nearly asked where Puddin' was, but then, I should just be grateful that Puddin' hadn't come with him.

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he asked. That Cheshire grin never left his face. I didn't like him.

"I don't know. It depends on what you want." I said warily. Did he honestly think I was going to let him into my apartment after he pulled a gun on me? I know lackeys tend to be dim, but he couldn't be that dumb.

"I'm here to talk business, Ms. Munroe. That's all."

"I've already told your boss that I won't do it." I said through clenched teeth.

"Do you really want to discuss this in the open? What if one of your neighbors happens to hear the wrong thing?" he asked, speaking a little louder. The rat. I opened the door wider and beckoned him to come in.

"Let's talk business." I said firmly. "I have other things to attend to before dark."

"Business or pleasure?"

"I fail to see how it concerns you one way or the other." I said, crossing my arms. His grin widened, if that was even possible.

"The boss upped the price. Three mil. You get half now and half after the job is done. That's one point five mil tax free, upfront."

What part of no didn't these people understand? "I already said no." I said. I was steadily losing my patience with him. Maybe if I sent him back to Arcade burned to a crisp, he'd get the picture.

"No one will ever know you took the money."

"I didn't say no because of witnesses. I said for moral purposes. Human sacrifice is wrong. Human life is invaluable." I said with a frown. Couldn't I get away from immoral people for even a whole week?

"Name your price. We'll match it."

"You insult me."

"Everyone has their price."

"What zombie could be worth that much money? What could your boss hope to gain from it?"

"You don't need to know that."

"Figures. I'm sorry, but no sale. I don't whore myself out for anyone." I said. He had his gun out before I could move. Oh, he wanted to play like that. I stared at it for a second. Now, weather witch or not, I was still cautious when it came to a gun. I could tell by the way his finger itched about the trigger that he was trigger-happy. I had to be careful.

"We don't have to pay you, you know. We could just force you to do it," he said. I didn't answer. My mind began to plan possible methods of disarming him, preferably without any shots being fired.

The door to the apartment opened. I heard Remy laughing. Zack turned, and Remy's laughter stopped abruptly. Where was Logan? I kicked the gun from Zack's hand, and he turned back to me. He opened his arms wide and prepared to make a grab. I was ready for him. "You leave her alone!" Remy yelled. Next thing either of us knew, Remy had jumped on Zack's back. It was almost comical watching Zack try to shake Remy off his back.

Remy lost his grip and fell backwards, but I already had Zack's gun in hand. "You can go now." I informed him when he turned to me again. He was breathing hard, and his eyes were full of rage.

"You ain't shit without the piece." He said with a sneer.

"Neither are you." I said. Logan chose that moment to come waltzing into my apartment, grumbling something about shit parking. He paused when he saw the scene. "Logan, would you escort this man to his car? And Zack tell your boss that if he doesn't leave me alone, I'll start sending his henchmen home in body bags."

For a moment, I thought that maybe that was the danger that William had warned me of, but he'd been specific when he said 'her'. When Logan 'helped' Zack to his car, I heard a little tousling in the hallway and a yelp from Zack. He couldn't handle Logan on his best day. I laughed and made sure Remy was okay.

Logan and Remy stayed for a while. I explained what happened with Zack. Then, I told them a little about the case and Joanna. No harm in it now. I didn't tell them why I was staying at the apartment for the night, though. In the end, they somehow managed to talk me into letting them come along with me for the grave searching. Well, actually, Remy was only going to meet Robert, and we were dropping him off at the mansion. If anything was in that graveyard, I didn't need it to get to him.

I pulled on my jacket. It was going to be a long night.

- - -

**Author's Notes:** Burke was an External in comic verse. An External was a group of mutants who were immortal, but their immortality was not their mutant powers. Burke and another External died in the comics due to the legacy virus. The other Externals were killed by Selene—who is an External herself along with Apocalypse and Candra, but they never joined with the other Externals—who proved that their life could be drained from them (it was originally believed that severing the "five branches" was the only way they could be killed).

I named him Burke William Burke after the Irish criminal who smothered his victims (along with his cohort William Hare) and then sold their bodies to medical classes. I read about him on the online Crime Library and thought it seemed fitting for my Burke. I also screwed with history a bit to make it fit even more. All right, I've rambled enough about that. Burke was a precog in the comics, which I utilized here. The violet eyes idea sort of came from a novel I read about violet-eyed psychics who could communicate with the dead.

It would take me all day to explain Limbo. Seriously. If you really want to know, I'll be more than happy to tell you. Mistakes will be fixed in due time.

Happy holidays, everyone!


	6. Chapter Six

**6.**

Robert was tall, dark, and Italian. His face was filled with all kinds of sly mirth that women just loved. He could charm the panties off the most devout nun. He was a handsome man, but if you told him that, you'd never hear the end of it. Robert thought everyone wanted him. He was convinced he was walking sex. He was also smooth, too smooth. He was perfect for his job. He would do whatever it took to get a story.

Robert worked very hard at appearing human. Most humans couldn't pick out a were in a crowd, but some weres were just so _obvious_. There was just something about some of them that humans could feel. It was illegal to discriminate because a person was a lycanthrope, but that didn't mean that it didn't happen. People still hated me because of my skin color and people still hated Robert because of what he was.

"Hello Ororo and company," he said, nodding at us when we entered his office. He stood from his chair. He already had that slick smile on his face. It didn't hold a trace of sincerity. I was beginning to believe he was born smiling like that.

"This is my friend, Robert Garcia." I said, waving a hand toward Robert.

"So, we're friends now. I thought you just used me to get information you needed," he said sarcastically.

I rolled my eyes at Robert. How many times did I have to remind him that I'd given him information in exchange, information that led to numerous exclusives? I decided not to waste my breath on a comeback. "Robert, these are my friends, Logan and Remy." I said.

Remy's eyes went wide as he stared at Robert speechless. I knew that Logan would be able to tell that Robert was were because of his senses, but if I didn't know better, I'd say Remy knew that Robert was a werewolf, as well. He had that fear that people get in their eyes when they find out someone is a were. That just wasn't possible, though, right?

Robert and Logan exchanged a handshake. They sized one another up before breaking the shake. Men and their egos. Then Robert studied Remy for a moment. The side of Remy's mouth was twitching like he was itching to say something. Either that or he was going to blow something up. I couldn't figure out which one.

"Demon eyes," I heard Robert mutter.

I don't think Remy heard him say it, and he hadn't said it with any disgust or fear. There was more like wonder in his voice. People who saw Remy's eyes either thought Remy was some kind of preternatural (demon, vampire, were, etc.) or they automatically pegged him as a mutant. Surprisingly, people were much more likely to think he was a demon than a mutant.

My boss at Animators Inc. found out about Remy tagging along sometimes when I raised zombies. He found out when a woman called and requested me to raise her son and she wanted me to bring the "half-demon child" because she heard from her friend he had mystical powers that helped me while I was raising her husband. Of course, Edmond told her the "demon child" would be extra. Now he wants to hire Remy part-time just to go with different animators on their assignments because he thinks he's a gold mine.

I hadn't told Remy that, though. The child already entertained the thought that he was going to raise zombies for a living because it was "safer than being an X-Men and more honest than being a professional thief".

Robert was still staring at Remy. As sleazy as Robert could sometimes be, I wasn't afraid of him realizing we were mutants. Remy's eyes probably said it all. Robert could be nosy, insufferable, underhanded, but somewhere deep inside, I knew if I really had to trust Robert I probably could. I think he trusted me, too. I was one of the few people who knew he was a werewolf. I hadn't told Robert that I was a mutant, but I think he had his suspicions. He never asked about it, though.

"Hello," he finally said to Remy, moving closer to Remy, extending his hand. But Remy backed away quickly, yelling in French.

"What's wrong with you, gumbo?" Logan asked, but Remy continued to scream at Robert in his guttural French. "The kid's fuckin' lost it. I told you he ain't right."

Remy continued to back away from Robert. He stumbled over a chair and fell to the floor. I moved toward Remy, holding my hands out to him. He'd pushed himself into a corner of the office. Robert looked completely lost. I'm sure he knew how to deal with screaming adults, but screaming kids probably terrified him, especially one who yelled at him in French.

"_d'Loup-garou_!" Remy said suddenly.

"Da loo-guroo?" Logan said.

"It's French for werewolf." I said. Cajun folktales about the werewolf were used to frighten children into behaving. Apparently, Remy had grown up with these stories. I was still trying to figure out how Remy had figured it out. Robert was so good at hiding what he was that he sometimes fooled vampires.

"How can you be frien's wit dat man?" Remy asked fearfully when I stooped beside him.

"Robert is a good person. He can't help that he's a werewolf." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Robert wince. I knew this was like listening to a mother explain to a child that it was okay that other kids weren't the same color as he was. "Just like you can't help being a mutant. He can't help being a werewolf. Robert won't hurt you."

"Sez you," Remy quipped. Remy stared at Robert with distrust.

"Do you trust me, Remy?" I asked.

He turned his eyes back to me. "_Oui_, you Remy frien," he said.

"I would never intentionally endanger your life. Yes, Robert is a werewolf, but Robert is a good person." _For the most part_, I added silently. "You have to trust me."

"Remy know dis, an' Remy do trust ya." Remy answered. He let me help him to his feet, but he didn't move any closer to Robert. I was going to have to give Remy some serious lessons on lycanthropy.

"Logan, will you please take Remy back to the car?" I asked. Logan had that defiant look as if he were about to tell me hell no. "I'll only be a few minutes." Logan grunted at me and led Remy away from the room.

"I need a favor." I said, pulling the chair Remy tripped over closer to Robert's desk. I sat down and placed my hands in my lap.

Robert walked back around his desk and took his seat. "What will you give me?" he asked. His dark eyes remain neutral.

"A new zombie legislation is in the works. Would you like the article?" I asked, baiting him. Robert always wanted to be the first to report a story. I hadn't seen any other paper cover this because it was relatively new.

He rubbed his chin for a minute, furrowing his brow in thought. "I might. Depends on what you want and what it's worth," he said slowly.

"This is off the record." I said.

"I should have known. Everything is off the record with you," he learned back in his chair with a defeated sigh. Life was one big newspaper article to Robert.

"I'll take you to all the companies that use zombies for labor. You can record their working conditions, and you can bring a photographer." I said.

"An article on zombies with somewhat gruesome photos and the lovely Ororo in the center of it all. It'll be a hit." Robert said. He sounded genuinely enthusiastic about the possibility.

"That's morose, Robert. I'll take you around, but I don't want attention. No pictures of me. A few quotes, but no pictures." I said. I didn't need any unwanted attention.

"I'll take what I can get. What do you need?"

"Do you know Webber Torque?" I asked.

"You mean that pretentious rich guy?" He wrinkled his nose. If there was one person who shouldn't call others pretentious, it was Robert.

"Yeah, that would be him." I said.

"Honestly, I don't know much about him other than he's rich. I could see what we have in the system about him." Robert turned to the computer behind him and deftly began typing away. "Damn, he's in the database all right. The files on him are huge."

He turned back to me. He had that sparkle in his eye. I had a feeling this wasn't going to be good. Another bargaining chip was about to be placed on the table. "And?" I said.

"It'll take forever to print. I'll get you pictures and everything. I'll deliver it to you myself." He said, lacing his fingers together on his desk. He had a smarmy look, the one he mistakenly thought looked earnest.

"The catch, Robert, get to it."

"Ororo, I'm hurt. I thought we were friends."

"You can bring it to my apartment."

"Why don't we meet at Phil's instead," he countered.

I didn't answer immediately. The last place I wanted to go was the vampire district, but it was still daylight yet. Nighttime was steadily approaching thought. "What are you doing hanging around the vampire district?" I asked.

"I heard there's a new head vampire. I'm trying to get the story," he explained. He searched my face for some betrayal of emotion. He should've known me well enough by now to know that my emotions were not something I readily wore on my face.

"You might as well give it up. It'll never happen. The vampires won't talk to you."

"But they will talk to you." He said. Little weasel. "Do you know who the new head vampire is, Ororo? Can I meet him or her? Do you think he or she would consent to an interview?"

"Don't you have enough problems on your hand without messing with the king of all vampires?" I asked. Hell no, Vega wouldn't talk to him. First of all, even if Vega hadn't been a vampire, he's arrogant. I could see him turning up his nose at Robert. Secondly, Vega would only play on Robert's eagerness like a puppet master if he did talk to him. Thirdly, it was Vega! But Robert didn't know that.

"He's a man then. So, you do know who it is!" Excitement had a way of making him sound like a child.

"I was just saying…" I trailed.

"You know something, Ororo. I know it." His eyes were glowing brightly now. If he thought he was going to get me to help him meet with Vega, he'd better forget it. I wasn't going to have anything to do with it.

"Robert, you don't want to meet a head vampire. They're mean as hell." I said.

"You get me an interview with the master, and I'll give you everything on Torque."

He was ignoring me. "We already agreed to the zombie story."

"Okay, but I still want to meet at Phil's. Maybe a vampire will talk to me with you around." He said optimistically. Hope springs eternal.

"I don't exactly have the best reputation with vampires."

"The Torque files if you let me go on your next vampire execution."

"We already agreed to the zombie story." I told him again.

"You know I had to try, Ororo, but we'll meet at Phil's, right?"

"Yes, we'll meet at Phil's. We'll meet in an hour. I want to be out of that place before the sun goes down completely. If it's not ready in an hour, you will meet me at my apartment." I said. In an hour, there would still be a little light in the sky. If I hurried, I'd be long gone before it was dark.

"Okay, okay, an hour. You act like someone's out to get you."

"Someone is." I said.

I didn't give him the chance to ask me anymore question. I had Logan take Remy back to the mansion, and I told him to meet me in at the cemetery. Robert was already at the bar when I arrived. I slid onto the stool next to him. He was nursing a cup of whiskey. Cecilia was at the far end of the bar pouring drinks. She held up one finger when she saw me.

Robert opened his messenger bag and pulled out a thick stack of paper. He wasn't kidding when he said they had a lot of information on Torque. "Can I take this home?" I said, thumbing through the stack.

"Yeah, but I have to have it back tomorrow. I actually didn't print it out myself. A coworker is working on a piece about businessmen who have been involved in suspicious dealings. Torque is one of the lucky ones who will be featured." He said. Robert was slick. He had to know this all the time. He just needed to lure me to the vampire district. I couldn't be mad at him, though.

Cecilia came to our end of the bar. Her face looked grave as she stood in front of me. I wasn't used to seeing her look so somber. She placed a glass of water in front of me. "I have a message for you from the master." Cecilia said.

I winced and looked at Robert, hoping he hadn't heard. I don't have the best of luck, though. He'd heard all right. Robert looked from me to her, his mouth already gaping. It was too late to amend the mistake now.

"What?" I said. I was not enthused. So, now we're playing the message game. Why didn't we just sit in a line and whisper it down the line like that game the elementary children played? Wouldn't that be much easier?

"The master as in the master vampire of the city?" Robert asked. His voice was about ten octaves higher than his normal voice. Cecilia looked at him and then looked at me again.

"He said he wants to see you bad," she said. Okay, that was enough. I opened my eyes wide and tried to send a telepathic message for her not to say anything more. Not in front of Robert, but she kept going. Oh, how I wish I were a telepath! "And I mean real bad, _chica_. He told anyone who saw you to give you that message."

"What does the master want with you, Ororo?" Robert asked. He was bouncing, literally, like a kid in a candy store. Any minute now I was expecting him to start repeating the word 'huh?' over and over again.

"This is off record, Robert." I shook my head at him. I couldn't tell him what Vega wanted to see me for. I could just see myself explaining that the master of the city wanted to go out to dinner, do a little dancing, and fall into bed together like we were a real couple.

"Off record," he said eagerly, nodding his head up and down. He actually didn't seem to mind that I wanted this off record. I felt like patting him on the head and saying 'good doggie!'

"Look, Ro, you better talk to him. This crazy motherfucka is talking about kidnapping you, girl! Do you hear me? Kidnapping! That's some serious shit! You better talk to him. Ain't no harm in talking. "

Was he seriously talking about kidnapping me? That's just low, and if I ever did talk to him, I would let him know that was low. "I have nothing to say to him." I said.

"Don't be stubborn, Ro." Cecilia said sharply.

"Why does he want to talk to you, Ororo?" Robert asked. Oh Goddess, my head was spinning. Cecilia went to the opposite end of the bar again to refill drinks.

I ignored Robert's question, rubbing my temples. I was not talking to Vega if I could help it. "Does this file have any highlights? I don't think I have time to read through it all before tomorrow."

"I'll give you the highlights for information on the master." He said.

"No deal."

"Why?" He was practically whining. I hated when men started whining.

"We already had a deal. If you want to be difficult, deal's off. I'll walk out of here and find out about Torque on my own. Otherwise, you give me those highlights before the master makes good on his word to kidnap me."

"You're in trouble with him, aren't you?"

"Like you wouldn't believe." Actually, it would depend on his definition of trouble. Vega was trying to make me his human servant. He probably wanted to sleep with me. He probably was going to have me kidnapped. He was probably pissed off at me. He just might torture me because vampires seem to like that sort of thing. That was trouble to me.

"According to our reports, he a genius. He likes his women especially dumb. I guess to stroke his ego." Robert stated. I believe it. Tina's IQ had to be nonexistent. "He's never been charged with a crime, but rumors fly like crazy. An old girlfriend sued him for palimony, and now, she's missing."

"Probably dead."

"Right. And there's something else…"

I leaned closer to Robert. "What?"

"You tell me, and I'll tell you."

"Robert, for the last time, I cannot tell you about the master or what he wants with me."

"But –"

"I'm giving you three seconds to tell me what you know. If you don't, I'm walking."

He laughed. I didn't. He stopped. He produced a picture of a very pretty woman with spiky black hair. She had hazel eyes and a naïve smile. "This is Sugar. She was his girlfriend until about three months ago." Sugar. Geesh. She didn't look so dumb, though. It was just a picture after all.

"Where is she now?" I asked.

"She's a prostitute."

"Where can I find her?"

"My coworker and I want in on this."

I started shaking my head. Last thing I needed on my head is Robert's death courtesy of a hitman named Puddin'. Sugar and Puddin', I wonder if they'd been friends. Why was I thinking about that at a time like this?

"No." I said.

"She won't talk to you."

"And she won't talk to you, either, will she? You're a reporter, Robert."

"She's just afraid of Torque."

"With reason to be." She probably couldn't defend herself against Zack and Puddin', and she probably knew what happened to the last girlfriend who crossed Torque. In fact, maybe prostitution was her way of hiding.

"You think she'll talk to you." Robert said. It wasn't a question. It was a statement.

"Yes."

"She works near that new club, Pandora's Hot Box." Figures she would work close to that place.

"Don't go down there alone, Ro." Cecilia said, materializing from nowhere. Cecilia knew me too well.

"I can take care of myself, Cee."

"I know this, Ro, but you don't look like you can. I don't want you to hurt anyone because they tried something funny. Take someone mean with you. How about Logan?"

"Yeah, don't go down there by yourself." Robert said. He actually had a note of concern in his voice. Please tell me the big bad wolf wasn't afraid of that part of the city.

Phil walked through the double doors leading to the back. Oh shit. That meant it was full dark. I had to get the hell out of there. Vega might really make good on his threat to kidnap me. "Hey, Ro," he said.

"Hey, Phil." I said, standing up. I picked up the files. "I'm sorry I have to run, but I have to be somewhere."

"I'll walk you out." Phil said. He was trying to protect me. Phil came from behind the counter and walked me outside. Robert followed.

"Packing?" Phil asked once we were outside. There were tourists outside. They gawked at Phil, Robert, and me. They thought we were vampires. They were waiting for us to do something vampiric.

"You know it. I always come here prepared."

"You're carrying guns!" Robert said a little too loudly. I felt like smacking him, especially when a little rustle went through the tourists. We had their attention fully now.

Phil eyed Robert. "Who's this?"

"Robert Garcia. He's a reporter. He knows that this is all off record." I said pointedly. Robert made a face at me.

Phil shook his head. "You gonna be smart or dumb about this?"

"Dumb more than likely." I answered.

"He likes you, Ro. That's the only reason he hasn't done anythingrash, but don't be stupid. Don't think just because he likes you that gives you some kinda immunity. Don't push him."

"He'd better not push me, either." I said. And I meant that.

"What is going on?" Robert asked.

"None of your business, Robert."

"Ororo…" Robert said.

"Please be quiet, Robert." I snapped. I think he was beginning to worry now. He was probably worried I was going to get killed before he could get his story with Vega.

"Some of the younger vampires are eager to impress the master. They might snatch you." Phil warned me. Baby vampires chasing me down the street. Funny.

"Not without a fight they won't. You go back inside, Phil." I didn't want him involved in this. I didn't want him to intentionally cross Vega because he was trying to look out for me.He didn't deserve punishment because of his concern.

"Are you sure you'll be okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, don't worry about me. Go back inside." I said. He went back inside the bar. The tourists were still gawking a little way away. Goddess, don't they ever get tired? I latched arms with Robert. "C'mon, let's get out of here before we're mobbed by tourists."

We walked toward my car while I mulled over what I was going to do. If I didn't die tonight, I would now have to dodge Vega's minions. Dying didn't sound like such a bad thing when putting Vega in the context. The shadows around my car seemed to shift, and I choked on my tongue. I jerked Robert to a stop.

"Ororo, what's wrong?" he asked, looking at me. Didn't he see? Didn't he see the shadows stirring? Didn't he see Vega? Robert's eyes followed the path my eyes made.

"Jesus!" he said, jumping when he saw Vega. "Where did he come from?"

Vega walked toward us. He moved gracefully as if he was floating on air. Simply put, Vega was imposing. He walked as if he didn't have a care in the world, as if everything and everyone should be beholden to him. He was wearing a dark business suit. I couldn't really tell if it was black or dark blue. The crisp white shirt was open at the neck and a tie hung loosely around his neck untied. He might have been a businessman trying to relax after a long day at work. I knew better than that though, though.

Robert pulled me closer, and I looked at him. He was furrowing his eyebrows at Vega. I thought Robert wanted to meet vampires, but he was starting to take a defensive stance against one. Then, I realized my own defensive actions were probably fueling Robert's. He thought Vega was the enemy, a bad vampire. Well, he was, but I didn't want to be the cause of a big werewolf versus vampire fight. The tourists wouldn't be that lucky tonight.

"Hello, Vega." I said, trying to relax a little. I couldn't let him see that he jarred my nerves.

"Hello, _mi belleza_," he said. I forgot how silky his voice was. You could melt butter with a voice like that.

"Don't call me that." I said. I didn't want him using his endearments with me.

He shrugged at me nonchalantly, turning his eyes toward Robert. I pulled my arm away from Robert's quickly, almost as if we were secret lovers who'd been caught. Robert didn't look in his eyes. He looked away from Vega. Robert was still susceptible to Vega's stare. Not too long ago I hadn't been able to stare into a vampire's eyes either, but Vega remedied that.

"I don't believe we've met." Vega said to Robert. His voice sounded just a little bit hostile. Was that a hint of jealousy I detected? Vega smiled and didn't flash a bit of fang. Robert didn't say anything to Vega. "Who is _your friend_?"

I wanted to say that jealousy was not one of his more attractive traits, but I decided against it.

"This is _my friend_ Robert Garcia. He's a reporter for the New York Dispatch." I said evenly. Don't do anything stupid, I pleaded silently with both of them. I didn't want Robert to say anything stupid. I didn't want Vega to say anything that might be considered threatening. I just wanted to get to the cemetery, and I wanted all parties to leave with limbs intact.

Vega walked around us like he was inspecting prize cattle. Robert's face was starting to flush with anger. His cheeks were red, so red I had the passing thought that if I touched his cheeks my fingertips would be burned.

"What is _he_ doing?" Robert asked me angrily.

"As I please." Vega answered languidly.

I turned to look at Vega. "Leave him alone, Vega." I said through clenched teeth. I'd had just about enough. Master or not, I would not have him acting like an envious boyfriend.

"Why haven't you returned any of my messages?"

_Because I'm not your goddamn girlfriend, Vega.__ Because I don't like you, Vega. Because I don't have to contact you if I don't want to, Vega._ That's what went though my mind anyway. I really didn't want him angry with me, though. Not right this second anyway. "I was going to come see you, but I have a busy schedule." I finally said. That was only a half-truth.

"So when will you be able to see _me_?" He said this with a hint of mocking, as if he couldn't believe I was putting him off.

"Tomorrow?" I said. It came out like a question. If I was lucky, I wouldn't be alive tomorrow. But as I often have to remind myself, I didn't have that kind of luck.

"Tonight."

"Sorry. I can't." I said. So helping the police comes in handy for other things. Prior obligations with the police would keep me from seeing Vega tonight.

"Oh, but you can, _mi belleza_."

Who in the hell did he think he was? "You are so difficult." I said angrily. Why me? I asked myself that a million times a day. Why me? Why not someone agreeable like Carmen?

"And you are exasperating." He chuckled. He acted like this was all a game. Well, if it was a game, I didn't want to play anymore. Why was I the only one starting to lose my cool? "What am I to do with you?"

"You could always leave me alone." That was too hopeful.

"Too many people already know that you're my human servant," he started. I wanted to cover my ears, to tell him never to say that again. "I have to bring you under control to consolidate my power."

"Bringing me under control? What is that supposed to mean?" I looked away from him. I clenched and unclenched my fists against my thighs. I hated him so much. I noticed the wind picking up a little in response to my anger, but I didn't do anything to stop it. That sometimes happened when I was emotional.

"It means, whether you like it or not, you are my human servant, and you must act accordingly."

Ugh, he said those words again. "I am not your human servant." I backed away from him. The wind was whipping my hair around my face now, but I barely noted it. I was still stuck on his words. I blinked once, and he was standing right beside me. I hadn't even seen him move.

"But you are."

How could he be so calm while I was about to smolder in anger? Somebody explain this phenomena. "I thought you couldn't cloud my mind anymore since I had two of the marks."

"Correction. I can't bespell you with my eyes, and I have to work harder at clouding your mind." His hand was on my arm, and I fought the impulse to snatch it away. I don't think I would have been too successful. I probably would just dislocate my shoulder for my efforts, and that was the best-case scenario.

"You're the master of the city, aren't you?" Robert's voice was even. I had forgotten all about him. "I want to interview you."

Robert was brave. Stupid, but brave.

"Perhaps. After I finish speaking to Ororo."

"Really? That would be great." Robert said. He was once again in reporter mode. "We'll do this however you want to do."

"Quiet." Vega commanded. Robert obeyed.

Up until that moment, Robert was convinced that Vega was just an ordinary vampire. He hadn't felt the true force of Vega's power. But the way Vega demanded Robert's silence was something else. The power behind his command was tangible, physically forcible, as if he'd hit Robert. The word seem to fly across the air between them, hitting Robert square in the face.

"Are you okay, Robert?" I asked. I knew it was a stupid question to ask. He was still standing, but I just felt like I needed to ask, just as I would ask someone who'd just slipped.

"Yes, I'm okay." He quickly fell back into his silent state.

"What do you want, Vega?" I asked, looking into his eyes. I felt defiant knowing I could stare into his eyes. They were the most astonishing shade of green, the kind of eyes you could stare into all day. Too bad they came attached to Vega.

"So insolent."

"I'm pretty confident you're not going to kill me in the street with all these witnesses."

"Yes, but in private I may not be as forgiving." That sounded so obscene coming from him. Talk dirty to me, baby. Whips, chains, and leather. I almost giggled. I had to force myself to remember he just threatened to kill me in private. Vega in leather. Okay, I had to stop. At least the wind was dying down. "I will not harm you, Ororo, but you must promise not to strike me down."

"No violence between us here and now." Would it have actually come to that? Goddess, I hope not. Will it actually come down to violence between us? "I'm late for an appointment, Vega. Can we get to the point?"

"Raising zombies or killing vampires."

"None of the above." I didn't say anything else. Let him sweat.

"Ororo, you are my human servant. You bare two of my marks."

"That I didn't have the chance to refuse because you never asked me." I said, interrupting him. "But yes, continue."

"You would have died if I hadn't."

"What? Should I start calling you Saint Vega, now? Yeah, you saved me with the first mark. The second one saved yours. You never asked what I wanted. You just forced them on me, and I'm pretty sure I hate you for it. So, we're even."

He was shaking his head now, and I was getting angry again. Oh, how I loathed him. "Two more marks and you will be immortal. You'll still be able to enter a church. Religious relics will not harm you, not that it would be of much consequent to you, anyway."

"I don't want to be immortal." I was not about to put up with him for a lifetime. I didn't want to live a life watching everything and everyone around me aging, living their lives, dying. That's the way things were supposed to be. I was part of that natural loop, and I was going to let him steal this away from me.

"When you fight me, you make me appear weak. We have to resolve this."

"Undo what you did. Find someone who wants what you promise."

"I cannot undo it. You are the one, Ororo, and you must start act accordingly."

"Vega, please, don't test me on this subject. Just leave me alone."

"Or what? You'll kill me."

"Yes. I will make you regret the day you ever laid eyes on me." Our eyes clashed. It was a good old-fashioned staring contest. First one to blink loses.

Vega laughed. "You crave me, just as I crave you."

Oh no he didn't bring that up. My face warmed thinking of all those dreams. "It's just a little lust. Don't get it confused with anything else." I said irritably. I was so embarrassed.

"I know I mean more to you than that." He said confidently.

"Like hell you do." I felt my fingernails cutting into hand as I clenched my first. "Look, I have to meet the police. I'm already late."

"When shall we meet?" he asked.

Wasn't what this was, a meeting? He was too damn demanding. "Tomorrow night."

"Where?"

There was a new comedy club in the district. I heard zombies were used in some of the acts, and I wanted to check it out. "Do you know the new club Suckers?" I asked.

"Yes."

"I'll meet you there tomorrow night. Eleven o'clock."

"Agreed. I will wait for you in my office."

"Your office?"

"I own the club."

Okay, I could handle that. Figures the bastard would own the club with a corny name like Suckers.

"Fine. I'll see you then." I said curtly. "Come on, Robert."

"He hasn't had his interview yet." Vega said.

"Don't do this." I said.

"I will give him his interview and nothing more."

"I want to stay, Ororo." Robert said. He wanted this. I could see that, but he didn't realize who he was dealing with. I didn't want Vega playing mind games with him.

"Robert, don't be foolish." I chided.

"I'm a reporter. You know I want this story."

I sighed. He was right. This would be big for him. The first reporter to talk to THE master vampire of the city. He'd probably have a new job making a crazy amount of money the next time we met. "You promise me you won't do anything to him." I said.

"I promise." Vega's face didn't betray anything.

"You will not harm him." I pushed.

"I will not harm him." His face was still perfectly emotionless.

"Fine, I'll see you both tomorrow."

A small huddle of tourists had formed. Apparently, they liked the show. A man raised his camera to snap a picture of me. "If you take that picture, I will take your camera and break it."

I caused lightning to strike a safe distance from the tourists. They scattered like ants. I walked away. I could still feel Vega watching me walk away. I hate him.

- - -

**_Author's Notes:_** I know there are mistakes, and I'm working on them. I had to chop this chapter into two parts. It was very long, and I didn't want to overwhelm anyone. With that being said, I would like to address a review.

LeVeau, as I mentioned in an earlier chapter through Ororo's ruminations, all religions have the capacity for "evil" not just voodoo. I am not singling out voodoo in any way. My own feelings on voodoo are the same as my feelings on ANY religion. I am not a religious person and I never will be; but I do take an interest in the studying the machinations of most religions.

This is just a challenge fic. As I mentioned in my initial author's notes, this is a "rewrite" of the Anita Blake series using X-Men characters. I added my own blend of things from the X-Men verse while following the Anita Blake verse, and in fact, I really expounded upon the information that was given in Ms. Hamilton's books regarding voodoo. She doesn't explain half the things she talks about in the books regarding voodoo, and in the book, you're led to believe that voodoo is mostly just bad and nothing else because the main character is a Christian.

I believe the people who read this story (and correct me if I'm wrong readers!) take this as they would any Fantasy/Horror/Sci-Fi story. You go into a book knowing that things will be different at the writer's own discretion. What applies in story may or may not apply to real life. If readers weren't able to make this kind of discernment, well, people like Gregory Maguire, Neil Gaiman, Stephen King, Anne Rice, et al wouldn't be very successful at what they do.

I'm not in any way undermining what you said, but I think most of the readers realize that this isn't the end all source, that things have been tweaked for the benefit of the story. I don't think anyone who reads this takes it for more than face value entertainment, and I'm sure they know the AU-warning applies to all aspects of the story not just the universe it's set in.

If any of the readers are interested in voodoo—or any other religion—I encourage them to check out sources for themselves. There are many excellent sources on the net and books on the subject readily available to them because I'm just a lowly fanfiction author after all. I don't claim to know everything on the subject, neither do I want people to be under the assumption that I do. That would be like taking sarcasm literally. But like I said, I think they are well aware of this. And if they're not, they are now.

I appreciate your input. Thanks for the review.

One last thing to mention. A little note about updating. I've been updating and writing a lot since the holidays started. Unfortunately, I think my updating will be a little slower. Classes are starting, and I have a couple of art classes that promise to be tough. Don't hold me to that, though. Sometimes the writing becomes an outlet after those long hours in class.

-Tempest, who really didn't mean for her author's notes to get that long


	7. Chapter Seven

**7.**

"You're late." Logan said when I arrived at the cemetery.

"I know. I was delayed a bit after my meeting with Robert." I said. No need to go into the why part. My ego already hurt enough that I'd given in to Vega. No need to bruise it any more.

"You're late!" I heard Bayman bark behind me. Damn, you show up ten minutes late and everyone is on your back. I turned to face Bayman. When he said he would have a team waiting for me, I didn't think that meant he would be here, too. No pressure. Even if Bayman did come off as a perfectionist, I could handle this.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry. Some last minute business kept me." I said sheepishly. I felt like a child who was trying to explain to her father why she was late for curfew.

Bishop was standing nearby with two exterminators – a man and a woman. They both wore there large backpacks on their backs. It was sort of reminiscent of the Ghostbusters. I almost started humming the theme song. The man—correction, the boy—couldn't be more than nineteen, and he looked jumpy as hell. That one was definitely trigger-happy. I just hope he didn't turn the flamethrower on us in his paranoia. The woman was around my age, but smaller than I was. Her eyes scanned the cemetery. An observer, a marksman on her guard, I liked her already.

I started walking and they followed obediently. No one said a word, but I could feel the worry in the air. I could literally taste the boy's fear on the back of my tongue, and I didn't like it. There was something chilling about feeling the fears of others. It was natural for the fear of other to fuel one's own fear. I tried to shake off the feeling.

We came to a collective stop when we saw a tall man in a trench coat standing in the midst of a plot. The family name was Lugar. He turned slowly and looked at us. The moon shone brightly, illuminating the tombstones and the faces of the other around me, but the shadows still concealed the man's identity. My flesh crawled as goosebumps made my skin tingle.

"The hell is he doin'?" Logan asked. There was an underlying note of tension and for good reason. The man was a sin eater. This was often the reaction they elicited from others.

"Consuming sin." I said quietly to the group. I briefly explained his purpose in life. They continued to gawk at him as if he were a sideshow attraction. They wouldn't like it so much if he really turned his attention to them.

A sin eater was an ordinary human. The practice of sin eating has been around for some time. Families paid sin eaters to eat the sins of the deceased. They believed this gave the dead some sort of absolution. I used to be very skeptical about sin eaters until I met one face to face. You couldn't pick a sin eater out of a crowd unless he was doing what he did best – eating sins. Even then, you might not be able to pinpoint the exact person who was doing it. Sin eaters never used their powers in public, though, not to my knowledge anyway.

I met my first sin eater through my friend, Raphael D'Aubigne. He introduced me to a man who claimed to eat sins. I questioned this man with general disbelieving questions. I'd heard about sin eaters, but I always regarded them as con artists preying on susceptible minds. To this day, I'm not even sure why I didn't believe in sin eaters. I mean, I live in a world where vampire existed, the dead could be raised, and your best friend could be a lycan. It wasn't too long ago that people didn't believe in any of those things either.

Anyhow, I challenged him to eat my sins, which I believed he couldn't do. Sin eaters were believed to only eat the sins of the dead. Of course, Rafe didn't think it was good idea for me to let this man eat my sins, but I wanted to prove a point. As I mentioned, I didn't believe that he could eat sins, of course, much less the sins of the living. It was a very unpleasant experience to say the least. Let me be the first to tell you, you don't have to be dead for a sin eater to eat your sins. You don't have to be ailing or weak-willed, either. Forget what you heard about them needing to actually consume food that "contains" your sin, too. They don't have to do that. It was just a way to fill their bellies back in the old days.

The man seemingly looked into my soul while speaking in another tongue, making every vile, dark thing I'd ever done, ever felt, come bubbling to the surface. There was minimal physical pain. My skin felt as if it were burning slightly with all the darkness that was threatening to come ripping from my body. The mental pain, however, was unforgettable. The things I saw, the things I felt, he made me wish I were dead.

When it was over, I felt lighter, as if a great weight was taken from me. I walked around for weeks feeling like Mother Theresa. I think I might have even told people "bless you, child" during that period. However good you may feel once it's all over, having your sins consumed isn't something you want to do while you're alive. It's actually a frightening experience. You remember every dirty, evil, vile thing you've ever done or thought – from the time you stole that crayon in the first grade to the present.

The sin eater standing in front of the Lugar plot wasn't trying to eat our sins, but we could still feel the effects of what he was doing. I knew the others felt it as well as I did. Repentance weighed heavily on our minds. Our skin tingled slightly as forgotten sins battled to be released. "He won't bother us, but we shouldn't disturb him. We'll return to this portion of the cemetery when he's finished." I said and led them away from the sin eater. I didn't look back at him, but I could still feel his eyes on us.

I heard four sets of footsteps close behind me. They seemed closer now that they knew someone else was in the cemetery. Logan's were inaudible, but I knew his were there too. He was just in prowl mode. I felt like a line leader. They were too close. I couldn't concentrate with them following me like lost puppies. If I stopped, everyone would run into each other and topple over. "Uh… guys, could you move back a little?" I asked in my best non-confrontational voice.

"But if we move too far back we won't be able to fry any zombies that might attack you," the boy said. Definitely trigger-happy.

"Don't worry about me. You just stand back." I said, walking on. Could the zombie be here waiting for us? As a general rule, zombies weren't that smart. However, this one had been eluding the police for weeks. This one was different. This one _was_ smart. That was a scary thought to have, and one I shouldn't be having. At the same time, I couldn't let the obvious fact that it was intelligent cause me to make careless mistakes. I couldn't underestimate this zombie. I concentrated on the task before me.

Restless souls. I could feel them. Souls usually moved on, but sometimes, they didn't. Some causes of this included excessive violence, confusion, pure evil… You know, the usual stuff. Ghosts were harmless – for the most part. They couldn't harm the living. They could scare the hell out of you, but they couldn't really harm you… under normal circumstances. There was the belief that the ghost of a sorcerer who practiced black magic could possibly harm you, among other things. I didn't know, and I wasn't aching to test out that theory, either.

I walked over a bit of sunken ground – an unmarked grave. I felt invisible fingers wrap around my leg and heard a ghostly whisper in my ear. I jerked away from the grave quickly, falling flat on my stomach. Logan, Bayman, and Bishop were at my side before I could get a grip on what happened. "Are you okay?" they were asking as they helped me to my feet. I was more embarrassed than anything.

"There's a ghost in that grave," I said, pointing at the grave. "Or rather there was a ghost in that grave. I felt it and sort of panicked. She or he is starting to fade, though." Ghosts tend to fade over time. The hot spot would probably fade before I died. Then again, this one was very angry. She or he might stick around for a while.

I collected myself and surveyed the graveyard. I had to do more than walk over random graves. If I wanted to find this thing, I would have to do more than play around on some graves. I licked my lips. Sometimes, I hated being a necromancer. I closed my eyes for a moment and concentrated, letting myself become one with my surroundings, allowing myself to feel everything around me. It was the same thing I did when I synchronized myself with nature. Except the power that came from this was different from the power I used to control the weather.

Right now, it was more like I was synchronizing myself with the dead. This power emanated from me stretching beyond me—around me—like a sort of shield. Except, it didn't protect me from anything really. It was more like invisible set of hands that allowed me to probe more than one grave at a time. The Professor once gave me a complicated explanation for it. He said telepaths could do the same thing with the minds of the living. No one else could feel what I was doing, not the living anyway.

As I moved, this shield moved with me. My phantom fingers clawed into the dirt showing me was under there. The coffin directly beside me was water ruined. The woman who rested in it was at peace. Everyone should be so lucky. I passed over the resting, walking along the path. A couple of coffins were protected by their ghosts. The hot spots flared against me, and it slightly burned against the mental fingers I was sending out. I could get in if I really needed to, but there was no point. They didn't want their secrets to get out, and there was no need for them to. They weren't what I was looking for, anyway.

Another ghostly hand grabbed my ankle, but this time I saw it. It was a man, and he was furious. I looked away from him quickly. Ghosts couldn't hurt you, true enough, but the human brain had a way of giving them substance. That's why people who truly didn't believe in ghosts never encountered them. There was nothing there to give them substance. I wished the ignoring act worked with other preternaturals like vampires for instance. It would be nice to ignore a vampire and have him disappear like a ghost.

As I continued walking, I felt more and more fingers reaching out to me. This was why I didn't do this often. It was more than a little bit creepy feeling all these ghosts reaching out to me. It seemed like nearly everything in this graveyard was restless. I tried not to look at any of the ghosts. I tried to keep my fear in check. There was so much anger and pain in their touches. It was almost too much. Some ghosts just wanted to reach out, but others were envious of what you had – life.

I found an empty grave. There were no bones, no body, no anything. I concentrated all my efforts on it. Remnants of magic still surrounded the grave. There had been a body in that grave once. I dropped to my knees and put my hands against the ground, inspecting the area around the grave. The ground around it was broken as if something clawed its way out. Definitely a zombie. I didn't know if this was the zombie we were looking for, but it was the only zombie raising I could sense in this graveyard. Chances are, this was our boy.

When I stood to start back at it, I looked around and realized I had walked the whole graveyard. In fact, I wasn't standing too far from the Lugar plot. The sin eater was long gone. I looked around at the graves. I saw spirits everywhere. To my eyes, they mostly looked like angry flickers of light. I backed away a little. I had done this. I disturbed them and many of them weren't happy. They would settle down eventually. I tried my best to ignore them.

I motioned Bayman toward me. He loomed over me, blocking out the moonlight. "A zombie came from this grave." I said, showing him all the evidence.

"Is that our guy?" he asked.

"I don't know, but it's the only zombie that was raised in this cemetery." I answered.

"Is there any way to find out?"

"Yeah, I'll have to get samples of the dirt, and I'll take it to someone."

"Someone like who?" Bayman's voice held a little suspicion. I stood up and wiped my hands on my jeans.

"I'm going to take it to have a psychometric reading."

"English, Munroe."

"A clairvoyant, I'm going to take it to a clairvoyant."

"Sort of like Burke."

"I'm not going to Burke if that's what you think." I said.

This was beyond Burke's line of psychic sight. He could see future happenings through touch with another person, but I had a feeling that didn't extend beyond the living – necromancer or not. Clairvoyants can see things, supernatural things, that we can't see. Besides, Burke is a suspect. Why would I take this to him?

Psychometry was fascinating. At least to me it was. When you took an object to a highly skilled clairvoyant, they basically read the psychic imprint—some of them referred to it as psychic residue—left on the object. What that means is the clairvoyant could tell you the past, present, and the future of that object.

Let's say you inherited an old gun from your great grandfather who inherited from his great grandfather and so forth. If you were to get a psychometric reading on that gun, the person doing the reading could tell you where the gun's been, who's touched it, the feelings of the people who touched it, where the gun's going, etc. It was a pretty interesting thing, if you asked me.

"Destiny." Bayman said with a sigh. "I thought she stopped doing this sort of thing. Last time I heard anything about her, she was a recluse who was going on and on about some kind of apocalypse that must be stopped."

"She's good, though."

"I don't know if I trust her, though. That's why the department stopped using her. We didn't know whose side she was on." Bayman said. That none-too-pleased sound was starting to creep into his voice again. I heard some of the same things about Destiny, but I needed her expertise at the moment. What I really heard was that she had some dealings with Magneto, but I couldn't validate those rumors. Until I could, I would continue to treat them as rumors.

"Do you have any of those plastic baggies in your squad car?" I asked. I could understand Bayman's concerns. I didn't deny that she may be involved in some shady business, but she'd always been honest with me. She'd always helped me when I needed it.

"Always."

"I need a few." Bayman sent Bishop to the car for the baggie. The headstone was gone, chipped away as if someone had done it on purpose. "The headstone's gone, and I think whoever raised the zombie meant to take it."

Bayman stooped down. "We could've used the information to find out who this person was and possibly why they were raised. Can't they ever make anything easy on us?"

"You know those aren't the rules. Murphy's Law, Bayman." Bishop returned with the baggies, and I filled Logan and him on what was going on. The exterminators were still a safe distance behind us. "What I don't understand is why someone would raise a zombie to kill so many people. Revenge killings I could almost understand, but you haven't been able to find a link in the earlier murders, right?"

"Right. There's nothing that links any of the victims together." Bishop answered.

"Sonuvabitch's probably crazy." Logan said.

"And if a crazy person is raising zombies, there could be more than one." I said. Some evil lunatic was probably running around raising zombies and letting them loose on the general populace. I didn't like that thought.

"Which would mean no pattern." Logan finished for me.

"Please don't say that." I said.

"Why not?" he asked.

"If we believe that, we may never catch the zombie or the person responsible for this." I was trying to be hopeful. I felt better thinking it was just an evil person who raised one zombie for whatever revenge purposes.

"But that's a possibility, right?" Bishop asked. "The person could be a lunatic that just gets his kick from killing others." I only sighed in response as I took a bit of the headstone, too. I would see Destiny first thing in the morning, if I lived long enough to see the morning.

"What are our odds of catching this thing before it kills again?" Bayman asked.

"Honestly, I don't know." I answered softly. I didn't want to tell him what I was really thinking. It wasn't too encouraging.

"You didn't say that with much conviction, Munroe." Bayman said. That was his way of telling me to spit out whatever I had on my mind about the killer.

I stood slowly, folding the samples tightly, putting them in my pocket. Oh hell, why was I protecting them, anyway? They were big boys. "Bayman, this zombie could be killing right now." I said with a grimace. I hope we wouldn't have to deal with another massacre like the last, but I knew this thing would probably kill again before we could catch it.

**xXx**

Logan insisted on following me to my apartment after we left the graveyard, even though I told him that was quite all right. He knew something was up. I wouldn't tell him much, and he knew when to back off. After Logan left, I took a nice, long shower and lay in the bed with the Torque files. Robert's sister reporter had highlighted important facts in the file. I started writing down the highlighted passages on my notepad. I yawned slightly. I wasn't really sleepy. I was just a little tired after a long day. I wouldn't sleep. I _wouldn't_ sleep. I wouldn't…

I woke up to the sound of feet shuffling and the dank smell of death. Something was moving around in the kitchen, and that something was definitely dead. I cursed myself for falling asleep. Without thought, my hand went to the gun in the holster hanging from my bedpost. I didn't move, as I heard whatever it was making its way to the bedroom.

The zombie shuffled into view. His skin was gray. He'd been dead a while. I thought about turning him, but this was Joanna's zombie. I was powerful, but I knew there was no way I would be able to turn one of her zombies. She was too powerful. This zombie wouldn't stop until it had fulfilled her orders, and there was no way I could take control of its mind.

Zombies aren't what you would call inhumanly strong like vampires or werewolves, but zombies didn't have the same fears that humans had about their strength. In other words, zombies used every ounce of strength they have in their body, which still made them much stronger than most humans.

That may not seem like much strength if you try to gauge it because most humans can't begin to comprehend what they're capable of. I'll put it the best way I know how. You've heard the stories about parents who've picked up cars that have fallen on their children or the captives that have chewed through their own wrists to free themselves from their bonds. That's what raw human strength is capable of.

This is the same stuff that allowed zombies to rip you limb from limb without blinking. Physical exhaustion would eventually stop a human, but not a zombie. Nothing would stop them. They would keep coming at you until it killed you or you found some way to kill it, which commonly involved fire. I could certainly disable it with my gun. Aim right, shoot off a leg limb, and he's an amputee.

I was using Glazer safety slugs in this gun. It would do massive damage to him, but the penetration of a Glazer is non-existent. What does that mean exactly? Glazers are good for shooting off the limbs of the zombie or even people, but I wouldn't have to worry about a bullet penetrating the wall and surprising one of my neighbors. On a side note: police officers do not use Glazers. Remember that the next time the police start shooting inside (or outside) your house.

Anyhow, no matter what I hit him with, he'd find a way to keep coming as long as I was still alive. I could shoot him to pieces and his pieces would still try to move toward me. He wouldn't stop until I was dead. This zombie was old, very old, though. If Joanna wanted me dead, why had she sent such an old zombie? I could probably easily get around him by just attacking him. I wasn't taking my chances, though.

I fired at his arm. It sent a sickening smell through the room, as it just seemed to fall away from the body. I aimed for the other arm and did the same. I controlled my gag reflex as the smell of rotting flesh and death grew stronger. Next, I took out his legs. He fell to the ground, sending black liquid in a spatter over my carpet. Old blood. Great. He was still trying to come toward me, though. I jumped from the bad and ran past the limbs that were still struggling to catch me.

I looked over my shoulder at the zombie struggling helplessly on the floor. I should have never turned to look over my shoulder. I knew the zombie in my bedroom was somewhat incapacitated, but there was just something in human nature that always made you look over you shoulder. If I hadn't looked over my shoulder I probably would've have seen the other zombie.

I bumped into something solid, and I found myself looking at a chest. This zombie was huge. He looked as if he came straight off the farm. He had to be in his early twenties when he died – freshly dead, too. He was fresh-faced even for a dead guy, light hair curled on top of his head. Muscles bulged beneath his tattered suit. This one had been strong before he died, and I didn't even want to think about how strong he was now.

Farm boy grabbed me and raised me by my shoulders. A massive head came toward my shoulder. I screamed as he bit my shoulder, and there was nothing I could do. He was too strong to fight. If I hit him with lightning, I would have to hope that he caught on fire or else it was hopeless. I still had the gun in my hand. I couldn't aim for his arms, but I could shoot him in the chest.

It wouldn't hurt him, but he might turn me loose from the impact. The barrel of the gun was touching his chest. I tried to concentrate as I felt his teeth digging into my skin. My eyes started to blur with tears. For just a moment, I wished he were a vampire or a lycan. Their sharp teeth would have already ripped through my arm. Instead, I had to deal with human teeth, which were painfully dull, which meant he had to chew at my shoulder like a turkey leg. I squeezed the trigger, hoping for the best. The impact from the gun did force him back, but at the same time, I was thrown back.

I slammed against the counter, the end of the counter poking me hard in back. I fought the urge to just sink to the ground as I clutched my back. Farm boy was already recovering from his wounds. There was a hole in his chest and dark liquid was oozing from the wound. Fresh blood. Great. I had to keep him back until I could devise a better plan. I took another shot at him. This shot went a little awry. It hit his arm, but it didn't do the damage I was hoping for. He went back, though, knocking over a shelf.

I felt fingers touching my ankle. I lost my concentration on Farm boy, as I looked down and moved away from the hand trying to attack my ankle. I shot the hand. It blew to bits. The arm still tried to move without the hand, rolling around helplessly on the floor. It might've been sad if said hand and arm hadn't tried to kill me. I looked up and Farm boy was already on me. I aimed the gun for his head, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger. I felt bone shards and something wet hit my face. Fresh blood on face. Wonderful.

He fell, but he managed to take me with him, falling on top of me. His head was mostly gone, except for his jawbone. I heard something sliding across the floor. I craned my neck to see the first zombie's upper body wiggling his way toward me. Mouth posed to do some serious damage. The zombie on top of me was too heavy to move because of the awkward position we were in. Where were the police? I know one of my neighbors had called by now.

Farm boy's hands wrapped around my throat, crushing. Tears slipped from the side of my eyes, as I struggled to take a breath. I heard my door being forced open. "Ororo!" Jean's voice called.

"Help…" I tried to scream it, but the hand around my throat was making it too hard to do much of anything besides die. And I could still hear my death sliding toward me on its stomach. And just like that the Farm boy's body was floating over me. Then, he was flung to the side like a rag doll.

I rolled on my stomach quickly, thrusting my gun between the teeth of the other zombie, just as it was about to take the plunge. His whole head went when I pulled the trigger, but his torso still tried to move toward me. I don't see how the damn thing even made it out of the bedroom. Determination. I stood up. Jean held the zombie back mentally. For the ten-thousandth time in my life, I wish I had just an ounce of telekinetic abilities.

Scott and Logan were standing there looking a little bewildered at the zombie. "We need to set it on fire." I rasped. My throat burned. I started rummaging through drawers looking for matches, a lighter, anything. I slammed the drawers, frustrated. I couldn't find any. First thing tomorrow, I was buying matches and lighters—tons of them.

"Police!" a man said, barging into the room with his gun pulled. Everyone paused. Jean was still holding the zombie at bay, but I don't think the officer realized it. Four officers came through the door after him. They paused for a moment before going after the nearly headless zombie who was coming toward us now. "What's going on here?"

I wanted to tell him that now was a fine time for them to show up, but I played nice. "Zombie attack," was all I could manage to say before he was pushing me toward the door. Two of the officers were holding on the Farm boy for dear life, but he was still trying to come toward me. The other two grabbed the zombie.

"Get them out of here! And somebody call the goddamn exterminators," the officer barked, as more officers entered. We were ushered out of my apartment by a few younger cops. Paramedics were outside. One was insistent on checking me over for wounds, even though I tried to tell her most of the blood came from the zombie. I just wanted to get as far away from there as possible.

Bayman took my statement personally. Maybe I would have felt special if I wasn't scared and seething… and someone was going to pay. He took me back inside to take the statement. The inside of my apartment smelled like overcooked meat, decay, and blood. Bayman and I sat at my kitchen table.

"I'm going to need your shirt as evidence," he said. I nodded at him. He allowed me to change clothes before I gave him my statement. The exterminators had put white sheets everywhere so blood and ashes wouldn't be tracked all over my apartment. That was mighty nice of them after not showing up in time.

"Tell me what happened," he said when I came back into the kitchen. I told him everything I could remember. I even told him about my friends kicking the door in the save me. I didn't tell him about the floating zombie act, though. "Was the door locked?" he asked.

"Yes, I always lock the door." I was a single woman in New York. I stayed in my apartment alone. Of course, I locked my door. Did anyone in America still leave their doors unlocked? I thought the days of nice, American towns was long gone.

"Can zombies pick locks?" Bayman asked. I thought that was a rather silly question, but Bayman never asked anything without a reason. He would clue me in shortly.

"No, they would have tried to rip the door off the hinges…" I trailed off. The door was barely on its hinges now, but Logan told me that he had kicked the door in because it was locked. I told Bayman that, as well. The zombies should have been the one who tore the door of its hinges, not Logan. Zombies don't have the metal capacity to pick a lock much less open a door, close it behind them, and relock it. They operated on the basest of intelligence levels. "You think someone picked the lock for them and then locked the door back."

"You think so, too." Bayman said.

"There was no other way they could've gotten in without physically breaking through the door." I said. "That bitch. She probably didn't do it herself, but she sent someone with the zombies."

"You mean Joanna," he said. I nodded. "You think she did this?"

"Bayman, I managed to make her mad. I know without any doubt that she did this." I said. I might have had my doubts about her being involved in the murders, but I know she did this.

"Is there any way you can prove that?"

"Right now, no, but if I could get inside her home, I could get some kind of proof."

"You still don't think she's responsible for the killer zombie?"

"I don't know, anymore." She sent two zombies after me. That was serious business. She wanted to be sure that I died tonight, even though she knows I have no concrete evidence on her. No, she wasn't worried about me going to the cops. This was strictly a revenge hit.

"I'll have a warrant in forty-eight hours."

"Two days. She could get rid of everything in two days. You might as well just spank her hand and tell her to be a good girl." I said a little colder than I intended.

"It's the best I can do considering the circumstances. We don't have any hard evidence other than your word," he said. I leaned back in my chair. He was right, and there was no sense in arguing with him about it. "Will you be okay here by yourself?"

"I'm not staying here. I'm going with my friends. Even if I did stay here, though, I don't think she'd be stupid enough to send another zombie after me." I said.

If she sent another zombie, chances are she would be caught since the police were on alert. If caught, she would be killed on spot. Witches, sorcerers, voodoo priestess, etc. gone bad were dealt instant death like vampires because sometimes they were able to slip through the bars, too.

"We've got to nail her, Munroe." Bayman said before he left.

"I know. Believe me, I know." I said before turning over my bloodied shirt as evidence.

I gathered up the papers on Torque and went home with my friends. The medics had been reluctant to let me go at first, but when Jean told them she was a doctor and showed off her extensive doctor knowledge, they let me go home. Jean and Hank examined my shoulder at the mansion. Hank was our newest team member. He was an expert on mutant physiology.

Hank tried to help mutant-human relations before a lab accident that left him blue and furry. Dr. Henry McCoy had been a mutant before his accident, but it wasn't something people knew. Before his accident, he just seemed like a mutant sympathizer who happened to be a smart scientist-type. He came to us after his accident. He was still coming to terms with his new look.

After they patched me up, I went straight to the bathroom. I was a mess. Despite having on clean clothes, there was blood everywhere on me. I took another hot bath, taking care not to get my bandages too wet. Jean was sitting on my bed, looking through the Torque files when I came in the bedroom. "How did you know to come for me?" I asked her.

"Well, Logan was worried about you. He had to be really worried to confide in us about it instead of playing the hero, or else he's starting to realize he can't take on everything by himself." Jean said pointedly. I smiled. She was trying to prove a point. She thought she was so clever. "And you're my best friend, Ororo. We share a bond, always have, always will. I felt you were in danger, and after everything Logan had said, I knew—we knew—you needed our help whether you wanted it or not."

"Thanks for not listening to me when I tell you not to worry about me." I sincerely meant that. As much as I wanted to keep my friends out of my other affairs, I knew that sometimes I couldn't. I was truly grateful that they helped me. If they hadn't, well, I wouldn't be alive now.

"You're welcome. Besides, if you die, who will be my maid of honor?" she teased with a wink.

"Logan might look nice in my dress." I said. Jean snickered.

"Heard that." Logan said from the doorway.

"Heard what?" I tried to feign innocence, but Jean was snorting through her laughter. The mental image of Logan in my dress was very amusing to say the least. I tried to bite back a smile. It wasn't working.

"Just for the record, I think pink is more Logan's color." Jean said. She squinted her eyes in a pseudo-serious look, as if she were trying to see Logan in a specific dress. "I think the pink would bring out his eyes. If you die, I'll talk to my wedding planner about it."

"Very funny, you two." He didn't sound as amused as I felt, and it didn't help matters that I could hear Jean singing in my head. She has a singing voice only a mother could love.

_As natural as rain, he dances again. My God! __Logan__ in a pink dress.__ Oh yeah. _Jean sang to me mentally. I tried to keep a straight face, but that's hard when your best friend is playing devil's advocate.

_If __Logan__ knew you were changing the words _of Vicar in a Tutu_ to fit him, he'd probably kill you and me both. _I said, trying to sound stern. Apparently, Jean doesn't listen to my stern voice often.

_In the fabric of a pink dress, any man could get used to. _Jean continued. Did I mention how bad her singing voice is? I couldn't help wincing a bit as her voice cracked inside my head.

_Jean, stop it. He's looking at us funny. He knows we're speaking to each other mentally._ I said. Logan was raising his eyebrow at both of us.

"You two are doing that weird mind-talkin' thing, ain't ya?" he asked.

"Yes." Jean said cheerfully.

"No." I said at the same time. Then, I elbowed her hard in the ribs.

"I can take a hint. You two want to be alone so you can _talk_." Jean said, standing up. She shot me a sly smile as she started walking toward the door. "Be careful with that arm." I knew what she was trying to imply, and I didn't like it. Okay, I did like it, but she had the wrong idea. She started humming _Vicar in a Tutu_ aloud as she walked out of my room.

I rolled my eyes after her. Sometimes, I wondered what really separated teenagers from adults besides age. Some days, I would swear that we're still teenagers instead of adults.

"How's that arm?"

I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt, took off the bandage, and showed him the wound. It was still red and swollen. Teeth marks marked my skin. "It's not too bad." I was playing brave. The wound hurt like hell. A constant throb pulsed through my shoulder. If a hamburger had feelings, it would probably know exactly how I felt. Another reason for me not to eat meat.

"I hear you're goin' to see _him_ tomorrow night." I knew which 'him' he was referring to. Vega. So, that was what this visit was all about. I thought he might yell at me for not telling him about the zombie attack, which I did know was coming. Apparently not. It was funny how Vega took precedence over everything.

"Who told you that?" I asked stunned. Where does he get his information? Was he in on some kind of supernatural rumor mill that just happened to tell more truths than rumors?

"Just somebody." He shrugged. "Is it true?"

"Yes." I answered. I start fiddling with the edge of my shirt. "But it's not personal. Not really. We just need to talk about this human servant thing and what we're going to do about it because there is no way in hell I'm spending eternity…" I trailed off. Why did I feel like I needed to explain myself to Logan? It's because I didn't want him to think anything was really going on between Vega and me. Because really there wasn't.

- - -

**_Author's Notes:_** Sorry it took so long to update, and sorry for the slapdash ending to this chapter. The next chapter is almost ready (if it's not already ready by the time I post this). Personal life and an unhealthy obsession with The Sims 2 (I can't seem to leave it alone for more than a couple of hours at a time before I'm running for my laptop) got in the way of updating. I did read the updated stories on my favorites list, but doesn't let me do a lot of reviewing these days. I did enjoy what I read, though. :)

You'll probably see Rafe in later stories in this AU and other stories. He's a character I'm working on in my writing classes. I like to give him minor roles in my stories because it gives me a new facet to add to his character every time I use him in something. Everything I said about "sin eaters" is true to belief with a minor twist. A sin eater would actually "eat the sins" of a person before he or she was buried. Bread was placed on the body of the deceased or a feast was prepared over the body and the sin eater would eat the offered food.

Darlin, "Devil's Kiss" is still alive and kicking. My friend and I are still working on it – slowly, yet surely. I just posted the next chapter on the website for it, but I'm redoing the site. It'll be a while before it's accessible for anyone else besides my friend. I discussed the possibility of posting the story on ffnet with my friend. We're still discussing it. She's mainly concerned with the possibility that it might break ffnet's rules regarding content. I'm mainly concerned with the long preamble I know I'll have to write if I do post it here. We'll see.


	8. Chapter Eight

**8.**

Destiny lived in a quaint neighborhood like something you would see in one of those heartwarming Disney movies. It's the kind of neighborhood that parents flocked to get away from the gritty life of the city. It was a nice place to raise kids in. Destiny lived in a cute—that's the best way I could think to describe it—house. It was a one-story brick house with white shutters and a yard that was meant for playing soccer in.

Destiny hadn't been outside her house in a year from what I've heard. She rarely ventured out, anyway, but I had never heard of her holing herself away from the world that long. I knocked on her door. She didn't ask who it was. She just opened the door. "I've been waiting for you," she said. That always made my skin tingle a little.

I looked at my reflection in her dark sunglasses. I was sort of afraid of what I might find behind the glasses. Destiny was blind, but it wasn't the thought of milky eyes or eyes void of pupils that scared me. I'd heard about people as gifted as Destiny who had cut out their own eyes to stop the visions. Instead of stopping the visions, the absence of their eyes only made them stronger. I was afraid that one day I would find out that Destiny was one of those people.

Destiny's house was sparsely furnished, but nice. Everything was mostly done in a monochromatic color scheme – black and white. I thought about commenting on how nice it was, but I thought it might be in bad taste. She led me to the living room. She sat in a chair and I sat on the couch. "I need your help." I said. There was no need to beat around the bush. Besides, there wasn't a lot we had to talk about. It wasn't like we were friends or anything.

"I know," was all she said.

I took the samples out of my jacket pocket and handed them to her. Destiny opened the bag with the tombstone chippings. She took once piece out of the bag and rolled it between her hands.

"The vision isn't clear." Destiny said with a frown. That was never a good thing. She was quiet for a while before she started speaking again. "A grave. He's wiping blood on the tombstone. There is a woman. No a teenage girl. A runaway. She is humming to herself. She's trying to go to another place. She misses home. 'Nobody will miss her,' that's what he says to the others before he slits her throat and wipes her blood on the tombstone. There is a charm bracelet on the ground. It has ballerina slippers on it."

"Who? Who are they?" I asked. Destiny didn't answer me. Instead, she cocked her head to the side. I was so close I could taste it. When she spoke again, things were different.

"He's coming." Destiny said softly at first. Then, her voice picked up in pitch. "He's coming, and he says we're all doomed."

"Destiny, are you still talking about the murder scene?" I had a feeling she wasn't. I was so close. Now, I could see it all fading away. Destiny was terrified now, and I knew that definitely didn't have anything to do with the crime scene. This was something else.

"He's coming. God help us. He's coming." She was shaking her head.

"Who? Who's coming?" I asked. I reached out to touch her, but thought better of it.

"Apocalypse…" she whispered.

There was an apocalypse coming. Bayman warned me about this. He didn't take it seriously, but I knew better. It wouldn't be the first time, and it wouldn't be the last time. And just like every other time before, we would stop it. I wonder if it was Magneto again with another of his stupid world domination plots.

Destiny's hands were shaking like milk. "Who is it Destiny? Who is going to start this apocalypse?" I asked in a soothing voice. If I could find out now, it could be handled immediately.

"You fool!" Destiny said. Yet, that wasn't her voice. It had a deep resonant quality like a man's, but there was an underlying mechanical sound to it. It was almost like getting bad reception. "Get out!" Destiny said quietly in her own voice.

I didn't want to leave her here battling with whatever this was. "I won't leave you." I said. I would have to contact the Professor or Jean to see what kind of psi-scan they could get on her. There had to be something I could do.

"There is nothing you can do for me. Get out!" she screamed. She really wanted me gone.

I stood from my seat. "Okay, okay… I'll leave." I said, but that didn't mean I wouldn't tell the Professor about this part of our conversation. I closed the door silently after me when I left. I felt defeated. I hadn't even let her touch the rest of the samples. I didn't learn much. I went in there blind about this case, and I wasn't leaving with any more insight. All I knew is that there was a "he" and "others" involved. Goddess.

I walked to my car only to see a familiar figure leaning against it.

"No fighting this time," Zack said when he saw me. I didn't move any closer to him, so he made it his business to walk closer to me. "I'm just here to inform you that this is your last chance."

"My last chance for what? Romance?" I couldn't resist.

"Funny, bitch." I guess he didn't like my little joke too much. "Look, he's offering you more money than most people ever see in your lifetime, and all you have to do is sacrifice a white goat."

"And what about the person you intend to have me kill? Their life is just as valuable as anybody else's."

Zack was tight-lipped for a moment. I guess he was debating whether I was wearing a wire or not. "It won't be missed." Good one. That was cryptic enough not to implicate himself but informative enough that I knew what he was talking about.

"Oh, so now the person is an _it_ now? Not even worth your precious time." Why didn't Torque just get someone like Joanna to raise his goddamn corpse. Simple, if he was caught, someone had to take the fall. Why not me?

"People like you make my job really fucking difficult, you know that? He's offering you the easy way out before drastic measures are taken." Zack hissed at me. It wouldn't be the first time that someone felt the need to take "drastic measures" to get me to do something.

"It's still no deal, Zack. Tell your boss to hit me with his best. Now, if you excuse me, I have other things to do." I said, smiling oh-so-sweetly at Zack. I brushed past him and got in my car.

I sat in my car for a second. That was unexpected. Arcade was very persistent, but I would not be swayed.

I made another quick stop to the paper to give Robert his files back. I knew all I needed to know. I was glad to see him in one piece. He was actually beaming like a bride on her wedding day. So, Vega hadn't done anything to him. That was a good sign. I let Robert babble at me about how this piece was going to make him. I wanted to ask what they talked about, but I could wait until the article came out. After leaving the paper, I went back to the mansion before going to see Vega. Ugh, I still couldn't believe I was going to see him.

I arrived at Suckers at 10:30, and the line was ridiculously long. I pushed ahead of the line of people despite the protests. I didn't have time to stand there all night. Besides, I wasn't really there to see the entertainment. "What is your problem, lady? You have to wait in line like everyone else." The woman in the ticket booth asked between smacks of her gum.

"I am not here to see the show. I'm just here to see Vega. He's expecting me." I said calmly.

Her jaw dropped, and I swear she stayed like that for ten minutes. "How do I know you're not a reporter?" she finally asked, eyeing me suspiciously.

A reporter. Ha! "Just call him and tell him Ororo's here if you don't believe him. That would be the easiest thing to do." I said adding a smile. I hoped it looked amicable because it didn't feel that way.

"I don't know…" she said reluctantly.

"I promise. I am not a reporter. I'm not trying to sneak into the club. And I'm not here to cause any trouble. Vega and I set up a meeting. If you just call him, he will confirm that." I said in a voice reserved for my pupils when they were getting on my last nerve.

She didn't look like she was about to call anyone. She just kept staring at me as if I were some crazy woman. I fought the urge to start screaming and pounding on the glass for her to just call Vega, dammit. Then, she might really think I'm crazy. Besides, that wouldn't be very ladylike.

"If I'm a reporter, he'll deal with me. You know he will. Just call him. Please." I said adding another friendly smile. She finally relented and turned away from me. She picked up the phone. I couldn't hear what she said, but a few minutes later, she turned around.

"The manager says you can come through, but you'll have to wait a moment to see Vega." she said. She was now looking at me with interest.

"Thank you." I said.

"Who the hell is she supposed to be?" I heard one of the patrons ask before I walked into the door. Nobody likes a line jumper. Blame it on kindergarten when the teacher drilled into your head that it wasn't polite to cut in line.

Once inside, a man was standing next to the door to the inner room. "Ticket?" he said. Goddess, here we go again. I'd probably get better results if I started screaming like a mad woman. It didn't seem like such a bad idea now.

"Your manager said I could come in. I'm here on business." I started, preparing to go through the same semi-begging as before.

"Mort, you said this lady could come in?" the man asked, looking behind me. I turned to see Mortimer Toynbee making his way through the door with cell phone in hand. He was manager of this club. He was starting to move up in the undead world. Good for him. I guess.

"Good to see ya, Ororo."

"You too, Mort."

"Really?" He smiled broadly.

Sure, why not? "Yeah." I tried to sound enthused.

"How long have you been the manager here?" I asked him.

"About two weeks. Vega gave me the job after I helped you out a little last time. You know with–"

"Yes," I said quickly. I still had nightmares about that bitch, Sakura. I probably would for the rest of my life. I didn't need him bringing her up. "Well, that's great that Vega is treating you well." He moved closer to me, and I moved back. Call it a force of habit. He was still a vampire. He couldn't bespell me with his eyes, anymore, but old habits, you know.

He looked hurt for a moment, and I felt a little guilty. Mort wasn't such a bad vampire really. "This is the best job I've ever had, and Vega he ain't so… mean." Mort said. I figured as much. He definitely wasn't as volatile as other master vampires I've encountered in the past. "Anyway, you're early. He's still handling business. Your friend, Raphael, is already here. I gave him one of the best seats in the house."

Mortimer pointed at a table near the stage where Rafe was sitting. He hardly looked amused, but the rest of the crowd was eating it up. "Thanks, Mort, and will you tell him I said that I am not waiting all night. I'm leaving at 11 sharp if he isn't ready to see me." I said sternly. I meant it, too. I know I was early, but I hope he didn't think he would prove some kind of point by not seeing me until midnight. I had other things to do.

"So, you want me to tell him to hurry it up?" Mort asked.

"Please."

"Like hell," he said with a nervous laugh.

"Don't worry about it, Mort. I'll tell him myself if it comes down to it." I should've known he wouldn't do that. He didn't want to face the wrath of a master vampire.

"I know you will. You're a tough broad."

"I'll take that as compliment." I said. I left it at that. I walked to the table where Rafe sat. He quickly swallowed down whatever it was he was drinking when I sat down. A waitress came over to our table.

"More Paul, please," he said, handing her his cup. Goddess, the comedian must've been really bad in his opinion.

"I'll just have a water, thank you." I said. "Is the comedian any good?"

"A real riot." Rafe said with a roll of his eyes. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."

"We won't be here long. I just have to talk to Vega, and then, we'll go looking for Sugar." I said. I filled Rafe in on Vega and Sugar when I spoke with him earlier in the day before going to Destiny's.

"I saw Vega earlier. When I came into the club and informed the manager that I was your friend and I was waiting for you, he paid me a surprise visit. I guess he thought I was competition." Rafe said with a half-smile.

"What did he say to you?" I asked. Did I even want to know.

"Oh, he made the usual typical threats that men make when they feel threatened. He just said them a little nicer than most men would, but I got the gist of what he was trying to say."

"Goddess." This definitely had to stop.

"No harm done, Ororo. I told him it wasn't like that because I was gay. Then, I threw a few flirty eyes his way to seal the deal." Rafe's dark green eyes glittered with humor.

The thought of Rafe flirting with Vega was too funny. "Why would you tell him something like that?" I asked.

"Because I love life, thank you. I don't want a master vampire stalking me because he thinks I'm trying to sleep with you." Rafe said, taking his drink from the returning waitress. He tipped the glass my way and said, "Salut!"

I sipped on my water. I didn't know whether to be angry or to laugh. I was angry because Vega was showing possession, but at the same time, Rafe flirting with Vega… my Goddess. Could it get any better than that?

"Have you ever heard of a mullo, Ororo?" Rafe asked me, placing his drink on the table.

"No, I can't say that I have. Is it supernatural in nature?" I asked.

I was always learning something new from Rafe. I pride myself on knowing a lot about the supernatural, but for everything I knew, Rafe knew ten times more. I always asked where he gained his knowledge. He never gave me a straight answer. Here and there, that's what he usually tells me when I asked. I think there's more to it than "here and there."

"_They_ are definitely supernatural. You might want to study up on them sometime. The Romani were some of the first people to record anything about the mullo. You might want to start there."

He was smirking. I didn't like it when Rafe smirked. It was never a good sign. I would definitely look these mullos up when I had more free time. "Okay, I will keep that in mind, but where are you going with this, Rafe?"

"I read some mullo tendencies on your," he paused. He'd better not say boyfriend or, Goddess help him, master. If he did, I was going to pummel him right there in the club. "Your acquaintance. And if I'm correct about him, you're in for a long ride." Rafe laughed. I didn't. I didn't get it, and I hated being on the outside of whatever it was he was thinking.

Rafe could "read" people. I didn't exactly understand it. He wasn't a psychic (and if he was psychic, he did a good job of hiding it), but sometimes he just knew things. He didn't know things like what I was going to do tomorrow or anything like that, but he had a tendency to know things about people. Maybe he just had a strong sense of intuition.

The next act came on the stage. A short, chubby human man with black hair that was beginning to thin and with him a tall, slender blonde man with dead eyes – a zombie. All eyes were glued on the zombie as the comedian went through a series of lame jokes that barely got a chuckle out of the audience. The zombie looked at the man.

"It just gets better and better. I'm going to need more drinks to handle this." I heard Rafe say and call the waitress over to the table to refill his drink. I didn't answer him. I just watched the show. The jokes worsened at the comedian continued. They were mostly stupid one-liners. The zombie started walking toward the man on his own accord.

Shit. It figures the comedian would use a zombie who didn't have any orders. Someone obviously raised the zombie and just handed him over. Otherwise, the zombie would've stayed in place. When a zombie is raised without any orders, he will revert to what is—or rather "was"—normal for him. If a zombie was good in life, he'll be good as a zombie. If he wasn't so good, let's say hot-tempered or violent, he was going to be a violent zombie. This one looked a little hot-tempered.

He walked jerkily toward the comedian. The room was as silent as a morgue. I think that's when the guy realized something was wrong. He turned to look at the zombie. "Rob?" was all he managed to get out before the zombie's hands were around his throat.

"Now, that's entertainment!" Rafe said, sitting up straight in his chair. Mortimer rushed to the stage and I stood up. "You really aren't going to help him, are you? Stupidity should be punishable by death."

"Rafe, I think you've had too much to drink." Rafe could be right, but we'd have one hell of a population drop if that's the case.

"You're probably right. I think I need another." Rafe said cheerfully. He didn't seem drunk, but you never know with people. Sometimes I wondered about my choice in friends. Rafe called the waitress while I approached the stage. Mortimer was pulling at the zombie, but the zombie wasn't letting up. Mortimer would have to pry the zombie hands off the man's throat. He could do it, but Mortimer was still newly dead and didn't know his strength yet.

"Need help?" I asked Mortimer. Mortimer looked at me like I was the one who'd been hit with the stupid stick and not the comedian.

I turned my attention to the zombie. "Rob, stop." I said in an even, controlled tone. The same tone I would use for a zombie I raised. He stopped squeezing, but he didn't release the comedian.

"Let him go." I continued in a cajoling voice. Rob released the comedian. He turned toward me, his hands resting at his side.

"Let's hear it for Al and his pet zombie, Rob." Mortimer said. Rob was hardly Al's pet. The crowd clapped uncertainly until Al stood to his feet.

"You've been great," Rob croaked into the microphone and literally ran off the stage.

Rob stayed, waiting for me to give him more orders. "Follow Al and obey all his orders until I tell you otherwise." Rob turned on his heel and followed Al. Should I tell Al that he has some control over Rob now? No, I think I'd let him sweat for being stupid. Maybe he'd call me to put Rob back to rest, which is probably what Rob wanted, anyway.

Mortimer walked me back to my table. Rafe was standing on his feet clapping. "Bravo. She'll be here all night people."

"I ain't never liked zombies." Mortimer told Rafe and me when we joined Rafe at the table.

"Are you afraid of them?" I asked.

"NO!" That 'no' was way too loud. It was the sort of 'no' that let you know the answer was really yes.

"Yes, you are. It's all right, Mort." I said. We were all afraid of something. I didn't like small spaces. He didn't like zombies. He had a reason to be afraid of zombies, especially when you factored in murderous zombies.

"I'm bloody terrified of them, but don't tell anyone," he pleaded.

"Who would we tell?" Rafe asked.

"You know… THE MASTER." The master was definitely said in all caps. Now, all Mort had to do was add the finger quotes to it the next time he said "the master."

"Oh _him_." Rafe said in a bland voice, making a tisking noise.

"Why would we tell him?" I asked.

"Well, I'm not so much worried about him." Mort said, pointing at Rafe. "But he tells us when we're talking to you it's like talking to him because you're his human servant 'n all."

"I am not his human servant." Was he going around telling people that? Dammit, we were going to have to talk about that. None of that was official.

"But you will be." Mort said almost glumly.

"Just because he wants me to be his human servant doesn't mean it'll happen."

"You don't know what he's like now. He's so much more powerful."

I thought back to Robert's encounter with him. I didn't know, but I had an idea. I wanted to change the subject. Fast. "Why are you afraid that I'll tell him about your zombie fear?"

Mortimer's eyes widened. "Because if you do tell him, he'll use it against me."

"Use it against you?"

"To control me."

"He uses torture to keep people under control." That wasn't really a question.

"Yes." Mort replied.

"What a bastard." Rafe said.

"My thoughts exactly." I said through clenched teeth. And I couldn't say anything to him about it because he'd know Mortimer told me. Then, Mortimer would be in serious trouble.

"You won't tell, will ya?" Mort asked.

"Your secret is safe with me." I said, patting his hand. I guess I did that to make up for shrinking away from him earlier. "I thought he was the kindest master you have ever had."

"He is." Mort said. Now, that is seriously scary. The kindest master he's ever had tortures him to control him. "Thanks for the help. I'll be back shortly."

Mort left us alone again. A new comedian came on stage. He was a vampire and monstrously so. His skin was ghost white, and his hair was a blaze of red. Sharp canines glinted in the light, appearing unnaturally long, protruding from his receding gum-line. He was young, and he was downright hideous to look at. Vampires usually tried to appear human, but this one wasn't trying to appear human at all.

"Not another one." Rafe groaned, motioning for the waitress.

"Rafe, you'll be no good to me if you're drunk."

"But I'm not drunk. I'm not even buzzing sadly."

I shook my head at Rafe. We turned out attention the stage. If the last comedian was bad, he was worse. He just wasn't funny – at all. But people were laughing like he was the greatest comedian in the world. All eyes were on him. They were rapt, totally enthralled with him. He had bespelled them. I've seen everything now. I've seen vampires seduce. I've seen them persuade. I've never seen one induce laughter. Well, he wasn't committing a crime unless you count making people laugh at his horrible jokes.

Rafe and I were the only humans who hadn't fell under his spell. That was normal for me. I had some immunity being a necromancer and since Vega gave me two of his marks, it was a lot easier to combat a vampire's charm. But because it was a natural thing for a necromancer, it was the reason why so many of us were vampire hunters. Dhampirs had more immunity than anyone else, though, being that they're half vampire. But dhampirs are a lot more complicated than most humans think, but that's a story for another time.

I didn't know why Rafe wasn't under the vampire's spell. I asked him about that once before, too. He called it his secret. He swears he's not a necromancer or a dhampir… or dangerous. He said I would find out when the time was right. I told him I didn't like surprises. He told me not to worry. I always worry, but he's been dependable. He hasn't done anything to hurt me or anyone else for that matter… not that I know of.

"He's ready for you." Mortimer said, sidling next to the table.

I took off my jacket and handed it to Rafe. "Hold that." I was wearing a holster, but none of the patrons noticed. They were still under the vampire's spell. I could have danced naked on the table, and they wouldn't notice. I didn't want them to notice. I wanted Vega to notice, though. I took a deep breath. Here we go.

Mortimer led me down a hallway to a door that said Manager's Office. He stopped in front of the door, but he didn't open it. I guess I was going to have to open it myself. I turned the knob and the door opened. The office was done in all black. Plush black carpet, expensive leather furniture, a black marble desk, a chair that was turned away from us. A black suit jacket was thrown over the arm of the couch. It was immaculate. It didn't look like manager's office. I walked into the office. Mortimer pulled the door closed behind. I held my breath.

I focused my attention to a painting on the wall, and it was pretty depressing. Clergymen stood holding bibles beside a water wheel. A man's body was strapped to the wheel and another man dressed in black had his hands on a crank that undoubtedly turned the wheel. It was a form of water torture, which ended in death many times. Obviously, the church had accused the man on the wheel of some offense and was probably trying to make him admit to some crime.

"A group of people once believed that if you held your breath a vampire will not see you because we rely on our sense of smell. They believed if we could not smell your breath, we would just pass by." Vega said from the chair. He still hadn't turned to face me.

"It's an old Chinese belief." It was actually a pretty current belief until the United States made vampirism legal and the vampires came out of hiding to flock to this country. We were giving immunity to vampires. Our government barely wanted to give immunity to women being tortured in other countries, but we welcomed vampires with open arms. "I'm sort of in a hurry."

He swiveled around in the chair. His hair was pulled back. I thought I saw the start of a braid, but I wasn't sure. He was unbuttoning the crisp, white dress shirt he wore. I kept my gaze steady, fighting the urge to look away. And he thought he was so slick. He was purposely being seductive about it. Unbuttoning each button excruciatingly slow. I thought he was going to unbutton the shirt completely. He only unbuttoned it to his chest. He was a woman's wet dream. I'd give him that.

"You _are_ my human servant," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Say what? Uh… lies. Well, at least he was direct. I wanted to throw a tantrum and start screaming "am not" over and over again, but I was a little old for that. "I _am not_ your human servant." I said with a frown.

"You have two of my marks."

"And there are two I don't bear. So, the way I see it I'm not your human servant." Didn't we just have this discussion last night? Was this all we were going to do? He was wasting my valuable time by arguing about the same thing repeatedly. I could be out finding Sugar.

He leaned forward and his shirt opened wider. I saw part of the snake tattoo—the one from my dream—on his chest. It was beautiful like perfection carved into perfection. He had to get that before he was turned. That had to hurt. Probably took forever if it was really as large as it was in my dreams. And he had some perky nipples. I absent-mindedly tipped my head to the side to get a better view. Wait… I did not just have that thought. What was wrong with me? I quickly straightened my head, horrified with myself.

Goddess, I was checking out Vega's chest. I was looking at his nipples for Goddess's sake, and he probably noticed. Is there anything more embarrassing? Focus, Ororo. No more distractions. I have to get out of here before I did something stupid like cat crawl across his desk. I might even purr, too. That's just about how I was feeling right this second for whatever reason. I was going to have to have sex and soon before I lost more brain cells.

I met Vega's eyes. He had that knowing smile on his face, and it was smoldering with more than just a little bit of seduction. I hope he didn't think I was about to return the favor because I wasn't about to show him anything. I crossed my arms over my chest to make sure he got the point.

"This does not have to be an unpleasant experience," he said.

"There's no way to get around it being an unpleasant experience for me." I said with a sarcastic chuckle. Then, it I got what he was trying to say. I should've taken off my shoe and hit him with it. "Oh, no! None of that."

"I know you are attracted to me. I can… feel it," his voice was a soft purr that made me shudder. I took in a deep breath. I did not want to have this conversation with him, but since it seemed unavoidable.

"Yes, you are attractive. Only a blind person wouldn't see that. It's just lust. I lust after a lot of men. Let's see there's Rick Fox, that actor that plays Warrick on CSI, the new Bio professor at Westchester University, the singer D'Angelo, the guy who hosts Iron Chef America, you know the one who was in that Crow series, Logan…" I trailed off. Vega didn't look too amused. "The point is I see men that I lust after, but that doesn't mean I will sleep with them."

"Casual lust. That is easily conquered. We share something different." He stood from his chair and moved toward me. Something told me that I should be backing away or running away, whichever was more convenient. I didn't move, though. I could feel my heart beating in the back of my throat, and my nerves tingled with some kind of yearning, a need. My pulse beat hard against my neck. This wasn't fear. This was desire. I felt it the first time we kissed. I didn't like it. I didn't want to feel this with him.

"Don't touch me." I said. However, when his fingers caressed my cheek, I made no move to stop him. This had to be some kind of trick, but something said it wasn't. I pulled back from his abruptly. I almost tripped but I managed to steady myself. I backed away from him just a few more steps for safety. Whatever that was I just felt was more dangerous than ten vampires.

I breathed in deeply and focused on the carpet. I looked up again, resolute. "I appreciate the offer, but I won't."

He nodded. His face was unreadable now. "Fine. Whether you share my bed or not, you are still my human servant."

I sighed. Here we go again. "You wanted to talk. So, let's talk instead of this constant back and forth."

"You always make things more difficult."

"If you wanted easy, you should've picked someone else."

"Point well taken." He walked back to his chair and sat down. "When Sakura was the master, I had to hide my power from her. It worked a little too well. There are vampires now who still think I am weak. They are challenging me, and one of the things they are using against me is you."

"Me?"

"Yes, your insolence. If I can't control my servant, how will I control the vampire community?"

"So, what do you want from me?"

"To be my human servant."

"Aside from that." I said dryly.

"I can force you to take the third mark."

"Just like you forced the first two on me? I'd rather die."

"Why?"

There were so many reasons. None of which he would understand. I decided not to waste my breath. "Please, don't make me kill you. Just leave this alone or one of us will die." I said. I was serious about that. If he didn't leave me alone, he was going to make me kill him – if he didn't kill me first.

"Can you at least pretend to be a willing servant?"

"That depends on what pretending involves?"

"Come to a few meetings. Stand by my side. You can even bring your guns," he said smugly. I narrowed my eyes at him.

I thought about that for a second. A thought tickled the edges of my brain. "You meant to mark me, didn't you? I thought you panicked and marked me, but you meant to mark me all along. Didn't you?" I knew I wouldn't like his answer to that.

"The opportunity was there, and I took it." He said with a wicked smile.

I would be dead right now, if he wasn't on some kind of one-man power trip. If I had been someone else, would he have just let me die, even if it meant facing Sakura's anger? No, he could've just turned me instead. I would've still been able to raise the dead as a vampire. This was all so deliberate and downright underhanded. Why hadn't this thought occurred to me before? Why didn't I realize when Sakura told me that she could turn me and I would've been a lot more willing to help? I missed a whole piece of the puzzle.

"Why me? I want the truth." I said coldly.

"Because you're the Executioner, and I am the vampire who finally caught you."

"You haven't caught me, and I won't play this game." I said angrily. Now, I was feeling a little less like cat crawling and a little more like opening fire. I clenched my fists. I was about to rip this place apart at the foundation.

"I know what you're thinking. Don't do it, Ororo. At least not with all these innocent people here." He said, and he had a point. There would always be time for that. This was the second time in the span of two days that I wanted to rip a building apart in anger. I really had to find a new profession or maybe I just needed a vacation. "You will not help me?"

"Fuck no." Oh, he just brought out the best in me.

He started laughing. I didn't want to be amusing. I wanted to be imposing and intimidating. "I offer you immortality without becoming a vampire. You refuse. I offer you myself. An offer that many people will do anything for and you refuse."

"You know what they say. Sex never goes out of style." I said sarcastically adding a shrug for emphasis. "You're probably no better than anyone else for a good time." Except… maybe he could last longer. And maybe he _was_ better. And maybe I didn't want to think about this in the middle of a drought. I was supposed to be angry with him. Think angry thoughts.

"You don't believe that."

I didn't, but I wasn't going to tell him that. "Just because you're a vampire doesn't make you better." He was giving me the eyes, the ones that promised ecstasy unknown. "Just stay away from me. You said you can't undo the first two marks. I'll learn to cope with that, but I want you to stay away from me, got it?"

"What happened to your arm?" he asked. Was he ignoring me? I think he was. The bandage was making a slight lump under my shirt. I didn't answer. He was up and at my side again before I could blink. He rolled up the sleeve of my shirt and moved the bandage. "Someone bit you."

I almost told him it was a love bite. "A zombie bit me last night."

"Who sent a zombie after you?"

That was definitely a demand. "What are you supposed to do? Protect me?"

"You still have my marks, and you have my protection."

Oh, well wasn't that nice? Next time I had some psycho after me, I knew exactly who to call. "The zombie is dead, and as for the person who sent it after me, she'll be seeing me around. I've been doing this job a lot longer than I've known you, and I don't need your protection." I said. I rolled down the sleeve of my shirt. "I have to go now."

I left without waiting for his answer. Rafe was twitchy when I went back to the table. He was worried about something. It was etched all over his face. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"It's my mother." Rafe told me his mother was sick, but she was too stubborn to let him care for her.

"Go home." I said, patting him sympathetically on the shoulder. His problems were more important than mine.

"You can't go down there alone."

I chewed on my lip for a moment. I had an idea. "I'm not." Rafe looked at me like he didn't believe me. "I promise."

"Ororo…"

"I promise." I stressed again. "You just go take care of your mother, and tell Ms. D'Aubigne that I said hello." I hugged him again and gave him a reassuring kiss on the cheek. Rafe left, and I was about to eat a big helping of humble pie.

I took a deep breath and walked back toward Vega's office. I could always just call Logan, but I was already a little pressed for time. I raised my hand to knock on Vega's office door. "Come in, Ororo," he said before I could bring my fist down. How did he… I did not like this at all.

I walked back in the office. He looked at me expectantly. I could always just go there by myself. Really, this wasn't necessary. But maybe if I invited him along, it would sedate him for a minute, and he'd leave me alone for a while. I tried to put on my most sincere face. I was having a hard time making myself talk. I mean, goddess, it was Vega… of ALL people.

"Would you care to accompany me to the red light district?" I asked. Wow, did that just sound like I asked him let's take a stroll and see what happens or what?

He raised his eyebrows. He was actually surprised. Hey, I got one over on him. I was feeling pretty good. "And what would be the reason for this trip?" he asked.

"I have to find a prostitute." I said. And his eyebrows raised even more. I was loving this, but I couldn't let him think that I needed to find a prostitute for my own pleasure or anything. "I have to question a certain prostitute. The person who was supposed to be coming with me had pressing matters he had to attend to. I need to take someone with me who looks intimidating, so I won't get any grief."

"You want me to be your bodyguard." He said with a conceited smile. He was so full of himself.

"I can take care of myself. I just don't want to have to hurt anyone." I said through clenched teeth.

"If I refuse?"

"Weren't you just the one who said something about protection and all that other b.s.? But it's not a big deal, though. I'll go alone." I said. I turned to walk out the door. Hey, I tried. He was in front of me, and I hadn't even seen or heard him move. "I really wish you would stop that."

"It's one of the few powers I still have left over you, at this point," he said. "When I marked you, I gave up much of my hold over you. So, I do what I can to remind you what I am."

"Like I can ever forget that you're walking death." I rolled my eyes. He had the audacity to look hurt when I said that. Well, hell… it was true.

"I knew there was another reason I liked you. You never let me forget."

Whatever that was supposed to be mean. I shrugged it off. I had other places to be, and I was taking a master vampire with me. Look out world!


	9. Chapter Nine

**9.**

So, let's see. Here I was riding across town with _THE_ (all caps, italicized, even when spoken) master vampire, and I felt like crying. Was it proper etiquette for the co-leader of the X-men, the mistress of the elements, the big bad vampire hunter herself to cry? I mean, if I cried right at this moment, was there any chance of me salvaging my reputation as a certified bad ass? I did work hard for this reputation, after all, so surely one little teardrop wouldn't jeopardize that. Right? Maybe if Vega wasn't in the car it wouldn't.

Vega was smug, too smug. My ego was taking a real blow. I had nothing better to do than go searching for prostitutes. I should be allowed one good cry. I would feel better, but I wouldn't cry if it meant taking myself down a notch. Okay, maybe it wasn't as bad as all that, but Vega was sitting in my car, and he's convinced that we have some deep soulful connection. I admit it. He's my main problem. He's making my life hell, though!

I was trying to convince myself that this wasn't bad, but Vega made me nervous. I expected him to blabber until my ears bled. He's good at that type of thing, y'know, and I actually might've felt a little better if did talk until my head started to throb. He didn't talk, though, and I had to look at him every few seconds to make sure that he _really_ was sitting beside me. I didn't like quiet vampires, especially not quiet _master_ vampires. When master vampires weren't prattling on about themselves; that meant they were up to no good. No good always meant I was probably going to have to kick somebody's ass. I didn't feel like kicking anybody's ass right now. I felt like crying. Give me a break.

"Comfy?" I asked. Yeah, I just had to break the silence. Forget all those rules about whoever breaks the silence first loses the advantage. I needed him to say _something_, and I needed him to say it _now_.

"You care?"

I didn't have to look at him to see that smug "why-don't-you-smack-me-I-might-like-it" grin. _Touché_, Mr. Vampire.

"No, not particularly, just making small talk." _Since I have to be stuck in a car with you and there are a thousand bad ways this could end just because you're here_, I wanted to add. But I'm a woman of decorum, but if he said small talk was for mortals, I was going to pull off the road. I'd been called "mortal" instead of Ororo enough times by preternaturals to think it was my name. They liked to point out they had an advantage over you, and it wasn't just limited to vampires. I had to give Vega that, though. He never called me mortal. Small miracle.

"You are nervous, _mi belleza_," he said. Never a question, always an assumption. I just shook my head and let out an aggravated snort.

See, I've been working on that with Logan. Kill 'em with attitude. I wonder what Logan's doing right now. I hope he wasn't worrying about me. He doesn't know what I'm up to, and I've been telling him everything lately. He's going to be mad with me. Why was I thinking about Logan when I had a hooker to track? I'm getting the fuzzies.

"_Mi belleza_ is not my name," I said mimicking his accent as badly as I could. I hope he hated it. I hope it made him wince. I hope it made him want to get out the car. I didn't like being called mortal, but I wasn't fond of "_mi belleza_" either. I wasn't his anything.

And oh goddess, Vega was touching my hand. He traced a light blue vein barely visible through my skin. His fingers were smooth, cold like ice. His touch was gentle, almost seductive. I swallowed hard, thinking about how those fingers might feel on other parts of my anatomy. I'm supposed to be pissed at him, but I'm getting the fuzzies again. This time they're for Vega. Oh, _gross_… well, not really…

"STOP TOUCHING ME!" I yelled nearly veering off the road in a mad effort to cover. My cheeks were flaming, and I hoped he didn't notice. Of course, he noticed. He noticed everything. Whether he chose to give me a hard time or not about it was entirely up to him. I wouldn't look at him, but I kept expecting some witty reply about how much I wanted it. He seemed to like pointing out that one fact.

Silence.

"For someone who had a lot to say earlier, you sure are quiet now."

More silence.

I hate that.

Wait, was he offended that I yelled at him? Well, maybe I don't hate _that_.

He was back to the ghost act. He started changing the damn radio stations without my permission, and goddess, he's stuck in the sixties. I _hate_ him. Why won't he just die already? Wait, maybe, I shouldn't want him to die because I might die. We haven't really discussed that, but I would remember to bring that up soon.

Other than bothering my radio, he was so… _still_… Normal people aren't that still. Non-vampires fidget. We shake our legs, make stupid facial expression, pick at lint. You catch my drift. It's one of the rules of life. He didn't move one inch, and it made me nervous. And I felt like poking him one good time to make him do _something_. Okay, I had to calm down or I was going to do something stupid. Whether stupid included trying to stake him or trying to jump in his lap, I couldn't tell you—maybe both.

We were silent as we entered the district. He made me edgy, but I was controlling it. I turned my attention instead to the freakshow outside. Everywhere someone was selling something, whether it was with a bright pink neon sign screaming, "XXX!" or if it was some woman in bright pink shorts trying to throw a little leg your way. This was not somewhere I wanted to be. I wasn't comfortable here. I didn't have a right to judge anyone, but the desperation that lined these streets made me uneasy.

When I parked (between some "massage parlor" and Madame Esmeralda's psychic friends with a "live nude girls show"), I glanced over at Vega who'd rested his head against the windshield. His eyes were closed tightly, and his chest was heaving like an asthma sufferer having an attack. He was having a damn vampire heart attack in my frigging car! Oh _hell no_! "Vega!" I said, hoping I didn't sound as panicky as I was feeling. I'd never seen him do that. Maybe he was allergic to neon lights.

He opened his eyes slowly, tilting his head slightly to look at me. "Yes?" he said. He looked a little pale now in the light, and his eyes weren't glowing as brightly as they had at the club. He looked sort of vulnerable, actually, almost needy. What in the world was going on with him?

"What is wrong with you?" I asked, hoping he didn't say something like his chest felt tight. If he passed out, could I even do CPR on him? An asthmatic vampire, that was almost funny.

"I can just feel a lot of life here," he answered, looking back to the streets. "There's a lot of pain here. There are a lot of people searching for something they'll never find here."

Thank you, Father Vega, for that rousing sermon. He looked over at me again, and I felt my senses start to tingle. I'm telling you ol' Spidey has nothing on me when it comes to vampires. I have a second sense when it comes to preternaturals. I guess it's part of "the gift" of being able to raise the dead.

I shrank away from his gaze a little, as my grip tightened on the wheel. "You haven't fed tonight, have you?" I asked, just as my pulse decided to throb in my neck. I was just hoping it wasn't telling him it was feeding time. How do I always get myself in these positions? Why didn't I notice this before now? Probably because Vega was good at illusion, and I was too busy being attracted and angry with him at the same time to really notice.

"You tell me."

"Smartassery is not one of your attractive traits." Sweet goddess, I had a starving vampire on my hands. Now, I didn't know if I was going to have to protect myself from the denizens here or if I was going to have to beat him off some poor person's neck while he gnawed on it like a hambone. "You cannot feed here, Vega. You cannot. You _cannot_!"

Yes, I was repeating myself, but I wanted to make sure he knew that I wasn't going to let that happen on my watch. Already a million horror scenarios were playing in my head. All of them involved Vega wreaking havoc on the people in this area. How could I be so stupid to think I could actually bring someone like Vega anywhere?

"You forbid me to hunt?" he asked. I could hear the amusement in his voice, but only because he let me. That was the thing with vampires. They let you in on just enough for you to want to kill them. Right now, I was wondering if he'd like it if I wrapped all that pretty hair around his throat. Too bad he wasn't human.

"I know you have to feed, just don't do it here, and don't do it in front of me," I said with a roll of my eyes. Couldn't he see that he was being unreasonable? Of course, he did. He knew what I was, what I did. Was he trying to see how far he could push my hand? Hell yes.

"And why not?"

Oh, damn him. "Because I asked you to come with me. I didn't force you here. You knew you needed to feed. You should've stayed where you were. And it's illegal for you to hunt unwilling victims."

"So it is. Punishable by death, correct?"

He knew the rules as well as I did. Who did he think he was playing? I'll play along for right now.

"Yes."

"By your hand."

"If you push me."

"And you care about these people? They're scum. Who will miss them? You?" He sounded snotty and all-knowing, a very different Vega from moments ago who actually sounded sorry for these people.

I was about to bitch slap a master vampire, and he was probably going to hit me back. I could feel my hand just itching to slap the smug out of him. But I can contain myself. Really. "That's not for you to decide. Others may fall at your feet in worship, but I _do_ mind you playing god. You have no right."

"So, all life, no matter how depraved means something."

He was challenging me. I didn't like it.

"Yes, it does. All life carries meaning, and that meaning isn't yours to decide."

"And who should decide if not me? You?"

"I do what I have to do to protect others."

"For the greater good you can take lives?"

"Why are you asking me all these questions? Can't you just sniff them right out of me or something?"

"Sadly, I gave that up when I marked you."

Why did he tell me that? Shouldn't he try to withhold as much as vampirely possibly to use to his advantage. This was a war after all, and he was giving me the advantage. "Let's not talk about this. Look, don't do anything unless someone attacks us first. Got it?"

He raised an eyebrow at me. I guess it was pretty funny that a human was trying to give orders to a master vampire. I might've laughed, but he was hungry. I had to do what I had to do and get him the hell away from here. Let's go team!

Loud music (apparently every establishment on this strip of concrete had a preference—none of it the same) blared at us. Every other sign had a "topless woman" or the "man of your dreams" usually with leather somewhere adjacent to the exclamation. I don't know whose idea it was to stroll hand in hand like a real couple, maybe it just happened, but I made a good point of gawking at every store window, just so I wouldn't have to look at his self-satisfied smile.

When I turned around, a hard body bumped into me. I steadied myself against the chest of a boy. He wasn't much taller than me, and he couldn't have been older than sixteen or seventeen. Short blonde hair did little to mature his young face. He didn't come equipped with fishnet stockings and barely there shorts, but he did have on a fishnet shirt under a threadbare jacket. A red, white, and blue scarf hung around his neck and jeans rode too low on his hips. I couldn't believe he was out here selling himself. Poor baby. I just wanted to take him home and feed him. I hated this place.

He put on a come-hither smile. "Which one of ya does it, and which one of ya watches?" he asked. Vega and I look at each other. Vega smiled a Cheshire grin. I can only imagine how horrified I must've looked. I hate to see children forced into these conditions. I already witnessed so much with mutant children and the abuse they had to endure.

I pulled it together, though, and managed to say, "We're looking for a prostitute named Sugar."

"Don't know any Sugar, but I can do anythin' this Sugar can do and better," he said. And was this kid touching my cheek? Oh my goddess, he was trying to seduce me? Maybe if I pinched myself, this would be a dream.

I didn't get much a chance to think about that before Vega removed the boy's hand, gaining his attention from me. He stepped into Vega as if some kind of spell lured him. He was enthralled. "You're the doer," the boy said to him, melting into him. His voice was a bit throatier, the kind of voice you used in the bedroom. All I could think was, '_Please don't_ _let Vega bite the boy.'_

The boy smiled a little brighter for Vega, and I wasn't sure what to make of it all. I didn't think Vega was trying to thrall him, but it was happening all the same. His fingers found their way to the "v" of Vega's shirt. "What are you doing? I told you not to do this on my time," I said through clenched teeth.

"This is not the one you seek?"

"No, he's just a child. We're looking for an adult woman."

He grabbed the boy's arms and pushed him away, but the boy started clawing to get closer to him. Vega held him at arm's length like a child taunting another. "I'll do you for free," the boy said. That gained the boy a unimpressed look from Vega.

"What did you do to that boy?" I asked him quietly.

"Nothing," he said with a shrug.

"You call this nothing?" I swept my hand at the boy. The boy was desperately trying to get to him. If Vega had been a normal man, there was no way he would've held the boy back, but if Vega had been a normal man, he wouldn't have prostitutes begging to do him for free. Then, the boy started in on a litany of sexual promises. I couldn't take much more of this.

"Hush. Be still."

"Who are you talking to like that?" I said loudly.

I turned to look at the kid who was completely motionless, slack-jawed. So, that's who he was talking to. Silly me. The kid looked dazed, though, and that worried me a little. "Um… hey kid. Hello?" I said, waving my hand in front of his face. I turned back to Vega. "What did you do to him?"

Vega grabbed my arm and escorted me around the boy. I couldn't help turning to look back at the boy who was still motionless in the street. He couldn't just leave him like that. And just as if he'd heard my thoughts the boy pulled in a deep breath like he'd just learned to breathe. He turned around, eyes scanning the street. He looked at us, but I could tell he didn't recognize us.

"What did you do?" I asked again, snatching my arm away from him.

"It was an accident. My powers are stronger when you are around. I did not mean to bespell him. It just happened."

"You're a piss-poor liar," I said. I didn't want to believe what he was saying because that would mean that would mean I'd need to take this human servant act a little more serious than I wanted. "Okay, whatever. Whatever power we happen to be sharing, IF we're sharing any power. Let's keep it between us, okay?"

"I'll try."

"You'd damn well better!"

His lips curved; he was laughing at me. Great. "Yes, _mi belleza_." I hated his sarcasm. I stared at him, hard, giving him my best "I-mean-business" look. "What's wrong, Ororo?"

I was sick of this half-condescending bullshit, and I intended to let him know.

"Let's get something straight here. I asked you down here for one reason. This doesn't mean we're friends. This doesn't mean we might be lovers. If you keep pushing me, eventually, I'm going to push back. And when I do, one of us isn't going to make it. Don't keep pushing me."

This town ain't big enough for both of us.

He nodded, serious this time. "I believe you, but whatever hurts me, hurts. I could survive the strain of your death, but do you think you can survive mine?" he said. He was playing on my worst fear. I was afraid that something like this would be part of the deal.

"You know what?" I said, putting my finger in his face. "So be it."

I walked away from, pushing my way deeper into the depths of that place. I brought him down there. I knew he'd give me nothing but grief. What had I been thinking? I thought he would at least be civilized for three seconds. That was so stupid of me. Maybe I took too much stock into that who "protection" spiel he'd given me. Ugh.

I bumped into two more teenaged boys. Heartwrenching. "You interested?" one asked. He had on just a vest and torn jeans.

"We don't see many women down here," the other one said. His voice was soft and almost feminine. He was much smaller than the boy with the vest. He looked like a sweet-faced chorus boy. I had to get away from here.

"I bet. Do either of you know a prostitute named Sugar?" I asked.

"Maybe, it depends on who's asking?" the one with the vest said. I pull a twenty out of my pocket. I knew it was awful, but maybe they'd take it and get a warm meal instead of pulling off with the next wanting customer. "She's down the street in front of the Tenderloin."

I handed the boy the money, just as my senses started tingling. I turned to see Vega parting the crowd like a messiah. Everyone looked at him with adoration in his eyes. He was like the pied piper whose mice were prostitutes. I had to get away from him. I was starting to feel like one of those women in a thriller movie who—no matter how fast they ran—could never get away from their assailant.

"Are ya sure there's nothing we can do for you?" the sweet-faced boy said. I couldn't do anything, but pat him on the cheek before I pushed through more of the crowd.

When I spotted Sugar, I paused for a moment, thinking of the best way to approach her. She looked about my height, as pretty as her picture. She was leaning against the wall smoking. She was dressed a little more decently than the other prostitute in this area. She wore a long skirt and a cropped shirt with long sleeves.

"That is her?" Vega asked beside me.

I barely glanced at him as I answered, "Yeah." She turned and saw us looking. She dropped her cigarette not bothering to stub it. She smiled at us, as she started walking toward us.

"Hi," she said when she got close to us.

"Hello," I said. "Are you Sugar?"

"Sure am," she said adding a pretty smile.

"I need to talk to you for a couple of hours. I'll pay you whatever your going rate is," I said. She told me her rate, and I nearly choked on my tongue. Maybe I was in the wrong profession. Okay, joke.

"You gotta room?" she asked. I couldn't help looking at her like a second head was going to pop out of her shoulder. I thought she was supposed to have a room or whatever.

"We can go to my apartment." I said, hoping I wasn't going to have to kick myself for this, too. Of course I was. I was about to take Vega and some prostitute to my apartment. What wasn't there to kick myself about?

Vega was charming on the ride to my apartment. Show off. He spent most of the ride talking to Sugar who was a pretty smart woman. I wondered what happened to her to make her feel like she had to be a prostitute. I believed all people could succeed at whatever they wanted to do, and I know she had to want more than just a quick buck to lay with someone… or maybe she didn't. When we got to my apartment, Sugar made herself comfortable on the couch while I nearly slammed the door in Vega's face.

"Why are you just standing there?" I asked.

"You are some vampire expert," he scoffed.

Oh yeah, right. I had to invite him in. Maybe I'd just feel better slamming the door in his face. It would save me the trouble of having to undo the invite later. "You may enter my apartment." Yeah, I know I would probably regret that one later, too.

He leaned against the wall, taking everything in, while I went to the fridge and pulled out two "Water?" I asked, walking toward her, offering her a bottle. She took it with a nod. "Do you need a glass?"

"No, thank you," she said. I sat beside her on the couch.

"I don't need one either," Vega said. He wasn't looking at me. Instead, he'd tilted his head to inspect a painting I had on my wall called "Flowers of Africa."

More smartassery. "Don't be cute, Vega."

"Too late." He turned to look at me and offered a smile with a hint of fang. Now, why in the hell was I smiling back at him? My brain must be broken. He actually looked pleased that I smiled back. Vega wandered off toward the bedroom and the bathroom, disappearing from our view.

"He's a vampire," Sugar said, tensing up.

"Yeah." I could try to explain that it wasn't like that. He was just some vampire that I happened to bring along with me, but that would take up too much time. And I didn't have a lot of it to spare.

"I don't know what you heard lady, but I'm not coffin-bait?" She took another sip of her water.

"Excuse me?" I said.

"I don't do vampires," she explained slowly. Well, that was a new one on me. Not the not doing vampires part but the "coffin-bait" part.

"Good because I don't do whores." His voice floated bodiless into the room.

"Don't listen to him. He won't bother you," I said with a dismissive wave of my hand in the direction he'd disappeared to.

"So, you and me then…"

"No. No. No. I just need to talk to you like I said."

"You want me to talk about doing it with other people while you do him."

Geez. My face actually warmed over, and I heard Vega laugh from… where the hell was he? He'd better not be poking through my underwear drawer or so help me goddess. "No, we're just going to talk."

"It's your dime, so it's whatever you want."

And I knew she meant that. "I heard you used to date Webber Torque." I was tired of skirting around the question. It was now or never.

She shrugged at me, but her face tensed even tighter. "Never heard of him."

"Yes, you have. I know you dated him."

"Look, I'll do you. The bloodsucker can watch. I'll talk dirty to you. But I don't know any Webber." There was a hint of desperation in her voice. I knew she didn't want to talk about this, but we had to.

"I'm not a reporter. I'm not one of his lackeys. He'll never know we talked unless you tell him," I assured her using my gentlest voice. That one usually got me good results, but it wasn't working so well with her.

She stood up, and I quickly stood up, too. "Who are you? I don't have to listen to this." I wonder if she'd actually attempt to hit me. She had the stance of an aggressor. Her look said, "I will kick your ass."

"My dime, right?" I said.

Vega materialized out of nowhere. I hated vampire games. "Trouble?" he asked. He had an eager look on his face like this was the moment he's been waiting for. If he thought I was going to tell him to bite her, he was wrong.

"She's being stubborn." I said.

He walked over to her, put his hands on her shoulders. "Sit," he said. And like a docile child she did. Not more of that. I thought I told him to keep that to himself… or to ourselves… or whatever.

"He'll hurt me," she said to Vega.

"He is not here, but I am." Vega sat next to her on the couch, and put his lips so close to her ear. I could see him speaking, but I couldn't hear him. Sugar's eyes widened as tears formed in her eyes. She trembled against him, and he slid one arm around her shoulder to steady her. What was he doing now? This night was just getting worst and worst.

She turned her eyes toward me. "Please. Please, don't let him," she pleaded.

And she definitely was not talking about Webber. She sniffled once, twice, and before I could swallow, she was bawling. I think we both caught our breath when we looked at Vega again. He was back to the scary stuff. His face, though still perfectly natural, was a mask of evil. Malevolence darkened his features and actually made sweat start down my spine.

"Leave her alone, Vega," I said through clenched teeth. Yeah, I was scared of him at that moment, but I wasn't about to back down. Yeah, he could probably slap my head off, but I wasn't going to let him torture someone physically or verbally in front of me. I hadn't given up my morals just because I needed information.

"I do love the taste of terror." A wicked laugh escaped his lips, and I could see that Sugar was terrified.

"You're supposed to have better control than that." He was a master vampire after all. He had to have some kind of restraint.

"I do, but it is not infinite."

"Just leave her alone." He stood from his seat and I walked over to her. He started pacing the floor. Violence threatening to escape. What was I supposed to do? He was with me. What kind of monster did that make me in her eyes? I reached for her hand, and she willingly let me hold it. I wanted her to feel my honest and reassurance. "I won't let him hurt you. Webber is threatening me. That's why I need information."

She didn't speak. She only watched Vega, pacing back and forth. Yeah, that made me nervous, too. "Vega, can you leave us alone for a second? Go to the bedroom." Just don't go in my stuff, I added silently.

"Of course." Ever the gracious gentleman, gone with the twinkle of an eye.

Once Vega was out of the room, she looked at me. "You're really not going to let him hurt me."

"No, just tell me about Webber," I said.

"Did he send Puddin' or Zack after you?" she asked.

"Zack." I still wanted to kick his face in.

"What happened?"

"I told him to tell Webber I'd start sending his men home in body bags." I meant that in the nicest possible way. If they threatened my life, threatened the life of those I love, someone had to go down.

She smiled a little. "What did you do to make Webber mad?"

"It's something I refuse to do that's pissing him off."

"Can't be sex. You're too smart, and I don't think you'd pull the dumb act."

She had that right. "How did you meet him?"

"I was in college, and he was donating money to the school."

"Funny, I thought he liked his women dumb."

"Well, what can I say? I'm a good actress. Anyhow, he asked me out. It stopped being great when I dropped out of college and started living. I figured playing dumb for the rest of my life for that couldn't be all so bad, but he's a sick man." Fresh tears started out of her eyes, and she gripped my hand tighter. "He replaced me with that blonde girl."

"Tina?"

"You've met her."

"Once."

"She's as sick as him. She gets off on torturing people. We used to be a threesome I guess you can say until shit got ridiculous. I can't tell you anything about his business. He kept me out of that."

Of course, he would. Wouldn't want a prostitute blackmailing you?

"That's okay. Did he talk about anything else… outside of sex?"

She closed her eyes for a minute. "His family. He was a bastard, and he's obsessed with his father's family. They were old money. His mom was a hooker. His dad's family just pretended it never happened. The rich have that luxury."

"Who's his family?"

"I don't know. He wouldn't tell me, but I knew he wasn't lying. He was too passionate about them. I think he made his money to be as rich as they were, so he could do something to hurt them in the end. Webber told me that his father's people got rich from being river pirates down in Mississippi and Louisiana. He talked about buried treasure and all that. He said that meant his dad's family were no better than thieves and whores, yet they had the audacity to treat his mother like they did."

Oh, this was getting good.

"He found where some of them were buried… his ancestors. He talked about getting a voodoo priest to raise them," she continued.

"That bastard!" He wanted me to raise his damn dead ancestors. But why would he ask me? Why wouldn't he ask someone like Joanna? She would take the money and give him what he wanted.

"Did that help?" she asked. She didn't know how much she'd just helped.

"Yes, it did. Did he mention any names as far as the voodoo priests or priestesses were concerned?" I asked, hoping he'd mentioned Joanna.

"No, but I don't understand how that can help you."

"Trust me," I said, "you don't want to know."

"Okay," she said quietly.

"Is there anywhere you can go? Can I buy you a ticket somewhere?" I asked. I really wanted to keep her safe now that she'd told me everything she knew.

"Don't be silly, love. You're not a man. You don't like women. Why should you help me? I know people here. I can get by," she said.

"With help from your friends."

"Whores don't have friends."

"He made you a whore. You don't have to be one."

She just shook her head at me like I was clueless. "Hey, I'm tired. Can I call a taxi?"

Vega and I stood outside with her until she left. I don't need to tell you how uncomfortable that was. I pretty much played the buffer between.

"I must go now. Time is short," Vega said, as soon as Sugar was gone.

"You're going to feed, aren't you?" I asked you. I hope I sounded disapproving. I was a little tired, and I couldn't get my best "lecture voice" going for me. I'd probably crash here tonight.

"Despite any laws man may pass, there will always be the hunters and the hunted. That is the only law this world has ever abided by. Since the beginning of time, this is the only thing that has remained the same, the predators and the prey. And if you are not the predator, Ororo, that means you are the prey."

He was looking deeply into my eyes, and I had to blink to break the spell. "Just go away, Vega. I'm tired." That was my best defense.

"As you wish."

I swear I blinked once and he was gone with the rustling of the leaves. Show off.

**xXx**

Author's Notes: Thought I had forgotten about this one didn't you. No way, and I do plan to keep going with the series. This one is close to being done. Excuse the mistakes. They'll slowly get fixed. Thanks for reading and emailing me about this story.


	10. Chapter Ten

**10.**

Sleep was a fitful occasion at best. At first, I hadn't been able to rest as my mind teetered between my absolute disgust for Torque and my continued disgust laced fascination with Vega. As the night wore on, my mind focused on one person. Vega. Yeah, I know. That's somewhat stupid considering Torque was my _immediate_ threat. He was damn near trying to kill me, and all I could think about was Vega. Ridiculous.

I tried to tell myself that I didn't care what Vega was doing, but he was out there _feeding_. On innocents, maybe. I'm not sure. I knew he took some perverse pleasure in getting me all riled up. There were people out there who were willing—more than willing—to let Vega take their blood. What was a few pints of missing blood for the chance to have Vega all over you, right? Heh.

I couldn't get his words out of my head. I didn't want to be the prey, but I didn't want to be considered a "hunter" in the sense that he meant it. And I wanted to be repulsed by him. I wanted to _really_ hate him. I wanted to load up a gun (or three) and put him out of _my_ misery. I couldn't go hunting him down, though. If I killed him, I'd go to jail. That's if I didn't die first. Then, I wasn't really sure if I wanted to find him, anyway.

I tried to concentrate on grading tests that needed my full attention. I couldn't concentrate. I looked over tomorrow's lesson plans, sang and danced to Diana Ross, called JP at the club. None of it worked. Vega'd burrowed himself into my skull and wasn't letting go. I couldn't just walk away from this, from him.

I rested against my pillow, trying to will him away. I was stronger than this mentally. Who the hell was I kidding?

Goddess, what was I going to do?

When my alarmed sounded the next morning, I wanted to throw it into a wall. These late nights were going to kill me yet… if I was lucky. I reluctantly pulled myself from bed. A hot shower would make me feel better. It always did. I was overdoing it again, but it was always all or nothing when it came to me. Jean said it was an admirable quality in me. I called it a horrible character flaw. I couldn't give everyone 100 of my effort. I should focus on those who needed me the most—the X-Men and the children.

Raising the dead, chasing vampires around like a happy heathen. I should leave that to people ten years younger than I was. I should be working on making this place safer for mutants. People were willing to accept vampires and weres, but they still denied us. That should be my focus, my life's work. I'd never be able to give up this life, though. I knew it.

As much as I complained, I knew I had some fascination with it. Villainous mutants were one thing. The supernatural was another. I got a thrill from both parts of my life. The pursuit of good and evil thrilled me like nothing else, made me feel alive. However, I was starting to get in a little deep, but I had to continue. I had no choice. Vega saw fit to do that for me. And until I found some way to free myself of him, I had to keep down the path.

I was amazed that I was able to float through my classes like nothing happened. I always prepared my lesson plans weeks in advance, but my mind wasn't on the children, much less history. A million thoughts swirled through my mind. I'd successfully pushed Vega out of my mind, but now, there was still Torque to contend with.

After classes, I made a store run, buying a few necessary things. Shopping always helped me to clear my mind. It didn't matter whether I was grocery shopping or clothes shopping. Nothing could help this nagging feeling in my stomach, though. I purchased my items quickly and made my way back to the mansion.

Once I arrived home, I fixed myself ice cream. I sat at the island table in the kitchen eating peach ice cream in a cone. Goddess, it was sin on the tongue. It was an impromptu pick up while I was the store. I saw it and a light bulb flickered over my head. Peach ice cream, it sounded divine. So, I bought it. Cue the heavy, half-lustful sighs reserved only for chocolate and ice cream—never men. I had a date with the danger room tonight. I wasn't coming out until I burned ten million calories. I swear.

Though, I could think of other ways to burn ten million calories, and one of them was walking through the door right now, as if called. But he didn't look happy. I wondered who pissed him off now—not that it took a whole helluva lot to piss him off. "What's goin' on with you and _him_?" Logan asked, mouth tightening, eyes narrowing. No "hello, how the hell are ya"? How rude.

I choked on the swallow of ice cream in my mouth. "What is that _supposed _to mean?" I asked.

He looked sort of ticked off at me. _I _was the one who'd pissed him off? I hadn't done anything. I hadn't seen him for more than ten seconds since I returned to the mansion earlier. I couldn't have possibly made him mad in the span of ten seconds… unless he knew about last night's foray that hadn't involved him.

"Cut the cute shit," he grumbled.

I almost laughed when he said. It made me think of what Vega said when I told him to stop being cute. No, I would not think about Vega. I would not. He was _not_ cute, not even a little bit. Okay, I'm lying to myself. He was awful, though, a one-man ego trip, but still, he'd made a clever remark. I wanted to smile. One look at Logan's face quickly quelled that smile, though.

"Elaborate, please," I said, continuing the coy act.

I don't usually play games, but I wasn't ready to discuss this with Logan, yet. I knew it was coming, but I wasn't ready for it now. I didn't even know what was going on with Vega and me. I knew what _wasn't_ going on, though, and if Logan thought _that_ was what was going on, I had another story for him. I took another bite of my cone. When did peach ice cream decide to become such a delicacy? I was just happy it wasn't strawberry.

"What's goin' on with you and the vampire?" He said "vampire" like it was a dirty word. I guess he really wanted to say "Vega," but I'm glad he didn't. I didn't want to hear his name for the next three weeks, if it could be helped. I had enough of him and his "predators and preys" bull to last me the rest of my life. Yep, I'll keep telling myself that.

"I'm not sure what you're trying to insinuate," I said, eyes widening.

I was stalling. I really didn't want to tell him. I just couldn't. It wasn't my fault, but I just didn't want him to know. He didn't really want to know about how this human servant deal was starting to play like a very bad dream. He didn't want to know that Vega wanted to sleep with me—and maybe I sort of, kind of, probably, somewhat wanted to sleep with him, too, not that I'd ever admit that to Vega, but he swore he already knew…bastard.

But back to the point. Logan did not want to know that. I didn't even want to know. He wasn't stupid or blind, though. He saw the packages, the messages, the flowers. Thank goddess Vega never called. He had that much decorum. It was always a non-issue between Logan and me. We never discussed it. Maybe it was because I was so adamant about not wanting to have anything to do with Vega. Even if he did know about last night, he knew there had to be a good explanation for it. Logan was not pleased right now, and I might think he was jealous if I didn't know better. He _couldn't_ be jealous. Could he?

"I think you know," he said. "You went to meet some prostitute with him." So, he did know. I still didn't know where he got his leaks from, but when I found out, someone was in trouble. Leaking my business like they had the right. I can't believe someone would do that.

"I just needed to talk to her because she used to date Torque, and I took him because Rafe had to go check on his mother. I didn't want to go down there alone, and it was a stupid mistake for me to take him." I felt like I was floundering. I could hear the apologetic tone in my voice. This was weird. We shouldn't be having this discussion.

"You just up and decided to take him with you." Wasn't this starting to turn into the kind of discussion you had with someone you were dating? It was going in that direction, and it was making me feel… funny.

"No, I was at Suckers. He owns the club." I couldn't even finish my cone. I walked to the trash and threw it away. I was going to try to make my escape, but Logan blocked my path.

"What were you doin' there?" he asked. His voice was low and unkind. I definitely wasn't there to ravish Vega on his desk, if that's what he thought. I decided to keep that smart-ass comment to myself. I guess I'd better start filling in the gaps.

"When I met with Robert the other night, Vega caught me after dark. I promised to meet him at the club, so we could get this mess sorted out. That's why I was late getting to the cemetery. We agreed to meet at Suckers. Rafe was there, but he had to go. When he left, I asked Vega to come along. It was stupid. I admit it. He's an asshole, and now, I have to reverse the invitation I gave him to come into my apartment…" I trailed off.

I still couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to do that. He could come and go as he pleased as long as the invitation was there. That was not something I wanted. I didn't trust Vega, and he's already let me know what he thinks our relationship is going to be all about. What would I do if I woke up to a naked Vega? I could tell you what I probably _wouldn't_ do if he showed up naked in my bed—kick him out. Trust or no trust, my good girl behavior had its limits.

I shouldn't be thinking that. I should focus on Logan who was giving me an award-winning glare. I have never needed a vacation from men I had nothing going on with, but I needed one now. This situation was just starting to get weirder as time went on.

"There is nothing going on between us. He even admitted the only reason he saved me was so I could be his trophy servant. He wanted to known as the one who got the vampire hunter. He wants me to come to stupid vampire meetings and bring my guns for show. Does that sound like any kind of functional relationship? He doesn't care about me. I don't care about him. What kind of woman do you think I am?" I said, hoping to clear the muddy waters.

Silence filled the room for a few more minutes before the discomfort settled. He looked away from me with a hangdog air. Yeah, this was an odd position to be in. "I'm sorry I questioned you like that. I was just worried," he explained.

"But I'm okay, and I'm touched that you care enough to worry. No harm. No foul," I said. He only cleared his throat. "This is a little awkward, isn't it?"

No sense in pretending we were exactly at ease. Right? I was starting to find that the best way to handle embarrassment was just to face it headfirst. I didn't want Logan to be embarrassed that he worried about me, even if we were starting to tread on uncharted territory.

"Yeah," he said.

"We can just pretend we never had that conversation," I said. I didn't think this would be the last time we discussed Vega, but for now, it was best to move on. I went to the freezer and pulled out the carton of ice cream. "Want some ice cream?"

He smiled.

My cellphone chose that opportunity to ring on my hip. Why? Why? Why? I placed the carton on the counter, as I answered the phone. "It's Bayman. We've got the warrant for Joanna's house processing. We've also got another murder. Same as the last one, a single family home."

My stomach turned. It was one thing to see the mangled bodies of adults. It was another when children were involved. I wasn't quite hard enough to handle that. I breathed in deeply, glancing over at Logan. His eyes formed questions. "Give me the address. I'll be there, ASAP." I said.

"It's pretty far out. Almost in the next district," Bayman said slowly. Was that supposed to deter me? He knew I had to come if they called. Then, I wised up. That wasn't the point he was trying to press.

"Why choose a family way out there when there are so many single family homes closer?" I asked aloud. This further cemented my thoughts that someone was controlling this monster. Why would it _need _to go way out?

"Are you directing that question at me? I'm not the zombie expert. If I were, you'd be out of a job." He let out a strained chuckle. Didn't sound like that was working out for him.

"Rhetorical question," I said. I paused before asking my next question. "Is it as bad as the last one?"

_Please say no_, I pleaded silently.

"Worse," he said before he hung up.

I gripped the edge of the counter, closing my eyes. This was all a bad nightmare. I'd wake up in a minute in my bed, in a world where the supernatural was still scoffed at. I wouldn't know how to raise the dead. I wouldn't know a thing about preternaturals. I wouldn't… I felt Logan's fingers touch mine, bringing me out of my thoughts.

"There's been another attack on another family. I have to go to the scene," I said without looking at him. I sought out his fingers for a moment for reassurance before deciding it was time to man up. Couldn't stand in the kitchen holding hands all day. "You can come if you want. They won't let you in the house, but you can come to the scene."

There were reporters packed from Westchester to hell when we arrived on the scene. It was thick, and they all turned toward my car like one carnivorous mass when my car pulled up. "Ms. Munroe, do you have any comments on the murders?" a chorus of reporters chanted as I made my way toward the house.

"No," I said, pushing Logan and myself through the throngs of people.

"Who is this?" one reporter asked, motioning toward Logan. "Is he reinforcement? Can he raise the dead, too? Is he some kind of supernatural expert?" I wouldn't even deign those questions with an answer. I gave Logan an apologetic shrug. I should've figured the media would be here. These murders were going on borderline sensational. All this shindig was missing was Robert. I couldn't believe he was missing from something this big.

Sometimes, I hated the media. They had a way of making things worse. A photographer was persistent in following me through the crowd, attempting to take pictures of me at every possible angle despite the mass of bodies surrounding us. One day I would punch one of those bastards in the face, if my good sense ever failed me.

"Please, don't take my picture," I said, covering my face with my hand. The photographer was persistent. "Don't—"

"Didn't she say she didn't want you takin' her picture?" Logan said, snatching the camera and slamming it to the ground. A slight murmur of surprise rumbled through the crowd. Oh great, that's just what I needed. If there was ever any way to make them pay more attention to you, it was by causing a stir.

"Stay here," I said to Logan. "I'll be out as soon as I can."

I don't think the media would eat him before he ate them. If they thought they were going to pester Logan until he gave up something, I felt sorry for them. Not only would he not give up anything, some of them would be going home a little beat up for their troubles.

There was blood everywhere in the house. It covered the walls like paint, splashed against the floor like water. It sloshed under my feet, threatened to coat my hand when I even pondered touching something. My stomach turned. There was one significant difference between fighting mutant villains and preternatural villains. Mutants made less of a mess. I wouldn't say the body count was any less, but the blood factor was _always _significantly less.

I walked to one of the bedrooms. The smell was enough to choke me, and I gagged slightly. I didn't want to look. I kept my eyes concentrated on the ceiling. All I saw was blood. "Oh goddess…" I had to stay strong. I was a leader. I fought in combat. I'd seen plenty of people die over the years. I could _not_ let this get to me.

I heard someone come behind me. "Hey, Ororo."

"How are you, Davison?" I asked, turning around. He looked tired. Davison was supposed to ooze with Southern charm. It was his specialty. Right now, he looked defeated. "Have you been home, yet?"

"No. As soon as you look at the body, we can go home," he said. I nodded at him. I'd try to get this over with as soon as I could. I didn't want to be here any longer than I had to, and if the look on Davison's face was any indicator, these men needed rest and time to recover from the massacre.

Bishop entered the room with a weary nod, just as Davison started to lift the sheet from one of the mounds on the floor. I couldn't make out any remains on the floor. It looked like half-chewed, raw meat. The next mound was a woman. Some of her limbs were missing. Her body was saturated in blood. I swallowed hard, looking at her ribcage surrounding nothing—everything was gone. A leg sans the bone was on the bed along with a clump of hair. The leg was definitely male. Why did I put myself through this?

"Can you tell us anything?" Bayman asked.

I hadn't even heard him sneak up on us. You'd think a guy as big as Bayman would make a little noise. I held up one finger in response. I continued to trail Davison until I saw a small white blanket with a balloon border on the other side of the bed. There lay the mangled remains of a small child. A girl, maybe six or seven. I couldn't look anymore. I turned around, quickly, backing away from the scene.

I wouldn't look at him. "It looks like it entered through the sliding door."

"Same as the previous murder." He grunted. The zombie was smarter than most. He was obviously more focused, more agile, more everything. The sooner we found this thing, the better off we'd be.

"Right, it's definitely the same monster," I said, not that anyone had their doubts about that. "I think the parents heard the commotion. The father went to the girl's room and brought her to this room, their room."

"Didn't do them much good." He looked around at the carnage, and I followed his line of sight as it rested to a point beyond the bed, the most gruesome part of the whole thing.

I nodded in agreement. "Did anyone hear anything?" I asked, walking around him. I just wanted to get out of that room as quickly as I could. Bayman walked with me away from the room. I tried to ignore the disgusting sounds the blood was making under out feet. It was working out too well for me. _Stay strong_, I said to myself.

"A neighbor said he heard a commotion around dawn, but went to work. He didn't want to get in a domestic dispute," Bayman answered.

Dawn, huh? How about that? "Was this family known for fighting?" I asked.

"No."

"If the asshole had just called the damn police…" I said, wanting to slam my fist against something. There wasn't anything in sight that wouldn't cause me to come in contact with blood.

"What could they have done?" he asked, looking at me as if I'd say I wanted to kill all the cops. I know he was thinking that there would've been more bodies. Maybe, but most likely not at dawn.

"They could've cornered the zombie until someone could arrive to dispose of it. This thing was just killing this family at dawn. If you haven't noticed, he took time to eat them as well. That would've taken some time. A perimeter could've been established without the men actually coming into the house. There would've been no point for them to enter since the damage was done."

"Hmm." Bayman didn't say anything else. That meant he wanted me to elaborate.

I had an idea brewing. Things needed start happening fast. "Seal off the area. Evacuate the residents. Get rid of the reporters," I said.

"What?"

"Seal off the area," I said a little louder. I was going into command mode. "It's still around here. It's hiding."

"Zombies can walk around in the daylight. It could be miles away from here by now," Bayman said. Now, he was looking at me as if I'd just lost my damn mind. Poor Bayman. He never knew what to expect when I was involved.

"True, but they _won't_ do it unless ordered. They hate the sunlight." I chewed on my thumbnail thoughtfully.

"I'm not following you."

"The thing attacked at dawn."

"Just as the fucking sun was coming up," Bayman said, realization set in. "Would it go to a nearby cemetery?"

"No, it's not like a vampire or ghoul. It doesn't need a coffin or a grave. It just needs a place where it can be away from the sunlight." Score one for us. I think.

"We're talking garages, storage buildings, a kid's treehouse."

Thanks for the horrible mental image of a zombie sitting in some kid's treehouse playing tea with Mitzy and Bitzy the pink elephants. That's what I wanted to say.

"Garages and storage buildings, yes. A treehouse, no. Notice that all the houses in this neighborhood are one story, just like the houses from the last neighborhood. It's purposely chosen houses that don't require a lot of climbing."

"And that most likely have basements."

"Right. As a rule, zombies don't climb. They're not good at it like ghouls. And it's likely this zombie rests around a similar neighborhood, so it would feel comfortable in this setting."

"The M.E. thinks the zombie is probably around six-two judging from the attacks. Most likely male because of the height."

"Then, have men around the same height sweep the neighborhood, looking for places that would be easily accessible."

"Get an exterminator team out here." I wanted to add not to pick the one with the jumpy kid that I met the other night. "And tell your men to be careful. Zombies don't attack during the day unless under extreme duress. This one is aggressive. It may not even take that much."

"Anything else, chief?" Bayman said with a laugh.

"I want a gun. Something powerful enough to blow off limbs."

"You're my kinda woman, Munroe."

"Too bad you're already married," I teased. Good to see I could still tease, even if now might've not been an appropriate time to do so.

He didn't tease back. He looked thoughtful. "I don't think we'll be able to get the team out here, Ororo. We're going to need more than one, at least a dozen. I don't think that's gonna fly."

"We can bring one team after dark. The zombie will definitely move then," I said.

Maybe I'd even bring Vega. He'd know where to find the stupid thing with his vampirely senses and all. That's a joke. I would never bring Vega anywhere that required he encounter other humans. He wasn't fit for public interaction. Besides, he'd only rub it in my face or want something in return. No thank you. We'd do this the old fashion way.

"We can still conduct the search. Who knows? We might get lucky. And we'll still need to evacuate the residents and establish a perimeter."

The phone at my side rang again. Damn, I sure was popular today. It was William Burke. What timing. He wanted to know if I'd found out anything about his brother's death. I told him to meet me at the morgue. "It's Cole's brother. You think you could get me access to the morgue?" I asked Bayman after my call with William.

"You're planning something."

"It'll help us." Hopefully…

"I'll see what I can do. Don't forget. We still have to search Joanna's once the warrant comes through. It should be any minute now."

"Call me."

"Will do."

Things were getting hot. I was actually excited that we were near the end of this case. I wasn't so excited at the thought of seeing Joanna again. My arm throbbed in agreement. Things were moving toward some sort of resolution. I should've been relieved, but I wasn't. Things rarely ever went as planned in these situations. The best I could do was be prepared.


End file.
